


for the devil to dance again

by neophilim



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Dark Harry, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Professor Tom Riddle, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Slow Burn, Slytherin Harry Potter, Tags to be added, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), i wrote this for me but you can read it if you want, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26209036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neophilim/pseuds/neophilim
Summary: Everyone knows the story of the Boy-Who-Lived, Ryan Potter. But most don't know the story of his younger twin, Harry, who's lived the fourteen years since You-Know-Who's defeat in the shadow of his brother.Sorted into Slytherin and an outcast among his own family, Harry is determined to make a name for himself apart from his brother's fame. The gap between him and the Potter's is growing ever larger, and Harry couldn't be more pleased. He's a prefect, seeker on the Slytherin team, and one of the best students in his year. With his O.W.L.'s coming up, his plans for the future are finally taking shape.As he enters his fifth year, Harry is immediately drawn to their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Tiberius Rowle. The mysterious pureblood is skilled at magic in a way Harry didn't know was possible, and he yearns to know more.Professor Rowle begins to mentor Harry, and draws him deeper into the world of magic than Harry has ever explored on his own.But Rowle keeps many secrets, and as Harry slowly discovers them, his life will change forever.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 66
Kudos: 604





	1. the hogwarts express

**Author's Note:**

> _and my heart is a hollow plain  
>  for the devil to dance again  
> and the room is too quiet, oh, oh, oh_  
> \- florence + the machine, breath of life

Looking up at the gleaming crimson of the Hogwart's Express, Harry Potter felt a true smile appear on his face for the first time in months.

He did his best to ignore the sound of his mother fussing over his twin, his father's teasing voice. Shifting on his feet, leaning against his trunk, he waited. Harry would much prefer to just board the Express and get going, but he knew a lecture would be coming his way if he didn't say goodbye. He had already sullied the Potter name by being sorted into Slytherin, according to his father. He didn't need another speech, not today, not about how he needed to stop acting out because he was jealous of Ryan.

Harry wasn't jealous of his twin. At least, not any longer. When they were children, he had been, but not of his fame, like his father and mother seemed to think. No, Harry had been envious of the attention heaped on his brother, while his own accomplishments were dismissed as attention seeking or insignificant in the face of Ryan's renown. His parent's assumption that he wanted to be like Ryan was the bane of his existence, and one of the reasons he couldn't wait to get away from them.

Looking back on it, being sorted in Slytherin was one of the best things that had ever happened to Harry, not matter that he had been terrified of his family's reaction at the time. Little first year Harry had still been eager for their approval, still believing that he could earn it somehow, if only he was good enough. But Slytherin had allowed him to flourish, to find his own path outside of his twin's looming shadow. If there were some obstacles at being the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived in the house of serpents, they had only made him stronger, or so he believed.

Now entering his fifth year, the shining silver Prefect's badge on his robes were just proof of how much he had excelled there. Even Harry had thought it would go to Draco Malfoy, and it had been quite the surprise when it was included in his school letter. His brother, of course, had gotten his own badge, as well. Naturally, the Boy-Who-Lived would be a Prefect.

Yet another thing that he couldn't have for his own.

Finally, his mother turned to him, a strained smile on her face. While his relationship with Lily had never been as combative as his relationship with James, they had been growing further apart, his mother apparently not sure how to treat him in comparison to Ryan.

"Well, good luck with your final year, Harry," she said, smoothing down his robes. "And make sure you study hard for your O.W.L.'s."

There had been no such admonishment for Ryan, who was apparently meant to skate through life easily, between his fame and the Potter fortune and name. But Harry had neither, being the younger son, and fallen out of favor at that. He would eventually have to actually work for a living.

"Of course, mother," he said, with a formal air that he had picked up from his Slytherin housemates.

He found the distance helped him to cope with what remained of his desire for her approval. He had managed to get rid of whatever similar sentiments he had towards James, but Harry had always been vulnerable in the face of his mother's love. Mostly because she, at least, seemed genuine in her affections, no matter how clumsy they were.

"Well, you'd best get on the Express, then," she said, taking a step back. "Say goodbye to your dad."

With ice in his eyes, Harry looked at James.

"Goodbye, father," he said coolly.

James barely glanced at him.

"Behave yourself."

Harry barely managed to contain his laughter at this admonishment. He was well aware of the Marauder's Map and invisibility cloak in his brother's possession, as well as the truly ridiculous amount of trouble Ryan got away with during the school year. But point that out, and he was like as not to end up in a screaming row with his father.

"Yes, sir," was all he said.

He might not like his father, but angering him too much would be foolish. After all, James was Lord Potter as well as Head Auror of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was a powerful man, and didn't want to make an enemy of him. Well, not more than he already had, anyway.

Ryan had already met up with his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Harry couldn't stand either one of them. Weasley was happy enough to skate by on Ryan's coattails, and Granger was an obnoxious know-it-all. Neither of them were terribly fond of him, either. If Harry was being generous - and he rarely was - he imagined they might at least get along, if Ryan hadn't been in the picture. However, as that was not likely to ever happen, it was pointless to imagine.

With a final glance at his family, Harry turned and pushed his trolley towards the Express. With every step, he could feel the burden of being a Potter lift from his shoulders. At Hogwarts, with his friends, he could finally be himself.

Boarding the train, Harry made his way to the same compartment they shared every year on the train - Harry, Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass, and Theodore Nott.

All the Slytherins in his year were friendly with each other, but they had broken of into two groups. Harry had his friends, and Draco Malfoy had his - Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe. In their first year, there had been some tension between them, and even some pranking, but the older years had put a stop to that. By fourth year, they had become more like friendly rivals.

He opened the door, and smiled at the sight that met him. Theo, Milli, and Daphne were playing exploding snap, and and Tracey was reading a worn looking book. They all looked up as he entered, and the train began to move.

"Harry!" Their voices mixed as they greeted him, and all the tension drained from his shoulders.

"Hey, guys," he said, and Theo got up, helping him stow his trunk and owl cage. He dropped into a seat, crossing his ankles, and running his fingers through his messy black hair.

"How was your summer?" Millicent asked, slapping down a card. "You were almost late to the train. Ryan giving you trouble again?"

Harry groaned dramatically.

"It was boring," he said. "James wouldn't let me visit anyone except Ryan's friends. He doesn't approve of you lot," he sneered. "Like I care what he approves of. I spent most of my time reading - I barely even got quidditch practice in. Ryan hogged the pitch the whole summer."

He shook his head slightly, realizing that he was whining.

"I'm sorry. You know how they get to me. Anyway, Ryan took forever getting ready this morning, and they wouldn't let me come alone, of course, so I had to wait."

Tracys tsked, turning a page in her book. She might look like she was absorbed in her reading, but Harry knew better. She was an excellent listneing.

"He's such a prat," Daphne said, frowning as she peered down at the playing cards. "I don't know how you stand it."

"A lot of time in the library," Harry said dryly. "But enough about the Potter's. How was your summer, Daphne?"

She smiled at him brightly, pleased that he had asked

"Oh, it was lovely. We visited our relatives in America for a month. The magic in New York is so different than it is here, I'll tell you all about it. And I brought you all souvenirs," she said, preening at their sudden attention. "They're packed in my trunk, but I'll give you them tonight. Astoria had a good time, also, but she got homesick about a week into our trip. Not that I blamed her. Anyway, Tracey, what about yours?"

And they started their yearly tradition of telling the others about their holidays, going from Tracey, to Millicent, to Theo.

All of them seemed to have better holidays than his own, even Theo, who's relationship with his father could be fraught. But Harry didn't resent it, not any longer. He had learned to appreciate the independence he had, and the choices he could make in life. Besides, it soured his friendship to be jealous of something that was outside any of their control.

About twenty minutes into their trip, just when they were winding down their discussion, the door slid open. It was the trolley witch, with candies and snacks.

Despite all of his trouble with his relatives, Harry had never lacked for pocket money. The Potter's were one of the wealthiest families in Britain, and he had grown up lacking nothing, so far as materiel items went. Harry sometimes suspected his mother bought him even more than his brother, to make up for the attention he never got.

If she did, it hadn't worked.

Still, Harry was able to buy whatever treats he wished, and did so every year, along with his friends. Cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties, licorice wands, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. He did have something of a sweet tooth, one of his indulgences.

They shared their bounty, each friend buying a variety and putting it in a communal pool in the middle of the compartment, a veritable treasure trove of sweets. So distracted from his the troubles of his family, they indulged themselves for a while, tiding themselves over until the school feast.

"So, who do you think the Defense professor will be this year?" Harry asked, curious what his friends might say. While James Potter didn't share much of what he heard in the office with him, he knew the others parents were more open with politics and secrets.

Tracey shrugged, and Daphne rolled her eyes at what she saw as an unladylike move, but shook her head.

"I haven't heard anything," she said.

"I have."

Theo's quiet interjection caught the attention of the compartment. He flushed dully, not used to being stared at, even by his friends, but continued on.

"I heard it's a member of the Rowle family," he said. "Some wizard who's been traveling, or maybe foreign. Father approves, though, and so does mother. Not like that Moody, last year."

Their previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, had been a former auror, and thus immediate enemy of Slytherin. He had been responsible for imprisoning many of their relatives and family friends during the war, and the older years especially hated him.

In Harry's opinion, he had focused too much on the defense side, and less on the learning new magic side of things. Not to mention he was a mentor of his father's, and so Harry disliked him on principle.

But the prospect of a wizard that even the irascible Mr. Nott approved was interesting. Harry didn't know the man well, but from what Theo had said about him, he wasn't easily impressed.

"Well, I hope he's good," said Harry. "But if he's not, we'll just teach ourselves, like we have before."

With useless Defense professors like Gilderoy Lockhart in the past, they had formed a study group in Slytherin to learn what they failed to in class. Harry had become the de facto leader, being the best at Defense, and he rather enjoyed it.

All in agreement, they started to discuss their classes and their hopes for the O.W.L.'s, when the door slid open.

It was Draco Malfoy, with his two friends, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Potter," he sneered.

"Malfoy," Harry sneered back, barely holding back a grin.

They held their glares for a moment, before breaking into laughter.

"Have you visited Ryan yet?" Harry teased as Draco leaned against the wall, smirking. Malfoy was infamous to his yearly taunting visits to Harry's twin.

"Of course. He looks more pompous than ever," Draco said derisively. "I don't know how you stand him."

"Neither do I, to tell you the truth," Harry replied with a shrug. "But needs must."

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that he fumbled his wand when he pulled it out. Dropped it on the floor and everything," Draco said, which Crabbe and Goyle snickered. "It was hilarious. And Weasley looked like he was apoplectic. Granger kept telling them that I wasn't worth it, like she does every time."

Draco found Ryan's reaction to his taunting endlessly amusing. And as the Boy-Who-Lived was infamous for his temper, usually, he ended up in trouble, not Draco.

Harry shook his head.

"Make sure not to lose us points this year," he said, even as he smiled. "Last year was a disaster, with Moody."

Draco grimaced. Professor Moody had turned him into a ferret for supposedly drawing his want when Ryan's back was turned, and had taken a truly monumental amount of points. Snape had been furious, of course, but Dumbledore had only reprimanded Moody.

"Don't worry," Draco said. "We won't have any trouble with the new teacher. Father was the one who brought him to the School Governor's attention. He's brilliant. I met him over the summer."

Immediately envious, Harry sat up.

"What's he like?" he asked, curious.

"He knows more than Moody, that's for certain, and he won't be taking points like Moody either," Draco said. "He's friendly with Professor Snape."

Their Head of House, Professor Snape was Draco's godfather. The rest of Slytherin adored him, but he had never warmed up to Harry.

Harry blamed his family for that. Some people would never see past who you were related to, he supposed.

"Well, we're nearly there," Draco said. "I'd better go back to my compartment. See you at the feast?"

And he turned and left, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him.

The train began to slow, and Harry stood, stretching his arms over his head

It was good to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for checking out _for the devil to dance again_!
> 
> This story has been a long time coming for me. I've read a lot of HP fanfic with a lot of tropes, and this story is the result. I'm posting it as I write it, with minimal outlining and no beta, so please forgive any mistakes. The tags may be added to in the future as I plot the story out more. Crossposted on wattpad and fanfiction.net.


	2. the feast

Seated in the Great Hall, between Millicent and Theodore, Harry applauded politely as the last student was sorted into Slytherin. It was always good to see first years joining his house.

He couldn't help but remember being that young. Small and terrified, Harry had sat under the Hat before his brother, hearing the whispers about him. Wondering if he was related to _the_ Ryan Potter. When the sorting had told him that he would be best suited to Slytherin, that his thirst to prove himself and quiet cunning was perfect for that house, he had almost panicked.

His father wouldn't be pleased if he was in the house of serpents.

But his desperate thoughts had been ignored - probably, he thought now, because he had no objection to Slytherin himself, only his father's opinion mattered to him. 

Looking back, it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He could only imagine what Gryffindor would be like. Always Ryan's brother, never himself. Expected to be just another clone of James. Not ever allowed to grow into his own.

He was brought back to the present when the Headmaster stood, getting the attention of the school. Harry listened intently, even though his opinion on him was... mixed. Complicated.

"Welcome, welcome to another years at Hogwarts!" Dumbledore said, spreading his arms wide as if to embrace them all. "Before our excellent feast begins, I would like to welcome the newest member of our faculty, Professor Tiberius Rowle, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."

There was applause from the students, though after having to welcome a new Defense Professor each year, it was beginning to get a little bit lukewarm. Harry noticed that Slytherin's applause was the most enthusiastic, and wondered if more people had heard about Rowle's reputation, or friendship with Snape. Or it could be his ancestry they were enthusiastic about - Rowle was an old pureblood family.

Professor Rowle stood, and gave a little bow. Harry noticed he was quite good looking - his blond hair was tousled artfully, and his aristocratic face was one that drew the eye. Harry quickly looked away from their new professor, glancing at his head of house. Everyone knew that Snape wanted the Defense job, and he had never been quite friendly with their Defense teachers, if Professor Snape could be said to be friendly with anyone. But, unlike previous years, he wasn't glaring at Rowle. In fact, he looked quite neutral. 

Before Harry could contemplate this further, Professor Dumbledore spoke again.

"I would also like to welcome Professor Grubbly-Plank to our ranks, who will be taking over Care of Magical Creatures until Professor Hagrid returns from his sabbatical."

This new didn't particularly effect Harry, as he didn't take Care. But Draco did, and he looked quite pleased at this news. Malfoy had never been fond of Hagrid, especially after the incident with the Hippogriff in their third year. 

Harry looked over to the Gryffindor table, where Ryan, Weasley, and Granger were all looking concerned. He knew they were on friendly terms with the groundskeeper, and they all took Care of Magical Creatures.

He wondered vaguely if they knew where Hagrid had gone, before dismissing the thought. He didn't particularly care, after all.

Dumbledore went on for a bit longer, but nothing nearly as exciting as their new professors was announced. Still, Harry stared up at the Headmaster. He was used to Dumbledore visiting Potter manor fairly often to speak with his father, and sometimes his brother. He had never been cruel to Harry - indeed, when he spoke to him at all he was quite kind. But he always got the impression that Dumbledore felt rather sorry for him.

Harry hated it. As much as he respected their headmaster's magical and political power, he couldn't stand the way the man pitied him. Not to mention his preference for Gryffindor House.

Dumbledore sat down, and there was a smattering of applause just as the food appeared on the golden plates. Suddenly starving, Harry dug in along with the rest of the school.

"I wonder what Professor Rowle is going to be like," Harry asked, in between bites of chicken. "Snape didn't look too displeased."

"He's so handsome!" gushed Pansy, glancing up at the head table. Harry agreed with that, but then again, Lockhart had been handsome, too. He wasn't about to let that influence his opinion.

"I've never seen Professor Snape _not_ glare at the new Defense professor," Zabini commented. "It makes me think he knows something."

"Rowle is a Slytherin," Malfoy replied, rolling his eyes. "I told you on the train. He's probably just pleased we won't get another teacher who's going to take points all the time."

Zabini shrugged, making the move look elegant.

"Maybe," he said noncommittally. "We'll have to see what he's like."

Blaise obviously didn't have Draco's faith that Rowle would be an excellent treacher. Harry couldn't blame him. It was easy to become a bit jaded after going through so many poor professors. It was a miracle they had manged to get this far.

Rowle was the subject of much discussion as the feast went on, with comments about his appearance, his supposed ability, and his family. Harry, nearly finished and full, couldn't help but look up at the new professor again.

Their eyes met, and, for the first time in his life, Harry's lightning scar roared to life, and he felt a white hot pain seared into his forehead. He jolted slightly in his seat, surprised, but the pain was gone as soon as it had begun. 

Slowly, he reached up to his scar, running his fingers along the jagged shape. He had been told that he got it the night that the Dark Lord attacked Godric's Hollow, that it had been a kind of reflection of the curse that had hit his brother, and Harry had never had reason to believe otherwise. He'd never felt anything from his scar before. 

Perhaps Rowle was more interesting than he had anticipated. 

Or, maybe it was just a coincidence. It could be a normal migraine, and Harry just needed to go to the hospital wing. 

Somehow, he doubted it.

"Is something wrong, Harry?" Theo asked, concerned. Harry realized he had been sitting there, ignoring dessert.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, taking some treacle tart onto his plate. "I'll tell you later."

If he could entrust this to anyone, it was Theodore, who was probably his best friend. And he could trust Theo not to betray him - after all, he knew plenty of the other boy's secrets, if it came to that. Which he doubted.

If the others noticed that he was distracted for the rest of the feast, they were good enough not to say anything. Harry kept surreptitiously glancing at Professor Rowle, afraid to make eye contact again but too curious to stop himself. Was it really coincidence? Or was there something about their new professor that affected him?

He supposed there was nothing for it, not that night. But Harry would certainly keep his eye on Rowle. 

The feast done, the remains of his food vanished from their plates, and Dumbledore stood again. He made the standard announcements - the dates of quidditch tryouts and the first Hogsmeade weekend, reminders not to enter the Forbidden Forest or use magic in the corridors.

Finally, they stood. As a prefect, it was Harry's duty to guide the first years to the Slytherin Common Room for the first time, along with Tracey, the female prefect.

As Theo, Millicent, Draco, and the others headed off to the dungeons, Harry and Tracey made their way to the front of the Great Hall, where the firsties were waiting.

"Merlin, were we ever that small?" Harry muttered.

"You certainly were," Tracey said, smirking a little bit. "Scrawny little thing, you."

Harry snorted quietly, before speaking up.

"Welcome to Slytherin," he said, smiling at them. He remembered how frightening it was, the first night away from home, and didn't want to make it worse. "I'm Harry Potter, fifth year prefect."

"And I'm Tracey Davis, your _other_ fifth year prefect," Tracey said. "Follow me, and I'll take you to our common room."

She took the lead, and Harry followed after the first years to make sure none of them lagged behind and got lost. There were eight new Slytherin students, four boys and four girls. An unusually even split.

Down to the dungeons they went, taking the simplest and most direct path. Once they reached the hidden door, Tracey stopped, and Harry moved to stand next to her.

"This wall is the entrance to the Slytherin common room," she said. "Every two weeks the password will change, so please pay attention to the announcement board."

"I hope I don't need to say it, but please do not share the password or location of our common room with anyone from another house. Not even if they're related to you. Each house dormitory is a secret, known only to them members of that house," Harry continued.

"Our password this week is _hemlock_ ," Tracey said, and the wall slid open. Already, the older students had arrived. While most had made their way up to their dormitories, tired from the journey and the feast, there were one or two groups of stragglers. 

Harry turned towards the first years who had gathered in a group, looking around them in awe. The underground common room was very impressive, in his opinion. Decorated in silver and green, with the lake above them through an enchanted glass ceiling, Harry thought it might be the most beautiful room in the castle.

“Slytherin House is responsible for many of the greatest wizards and witches ever, contrary to what some might tell you,” Harry began. “Even Merlin was a Slytherin.”

“So don’t listen to what some people might tell you about only dark wizards coming from our house, or anything like that,” Tracey continued. “It’s rubbish. Everyone is welcome here, pureblood, halfblood, and muggleborn.”

“If any of the others give you trouble for your blood status, please come to me, Tracey, one of the other prefects, or even Professor Snape.” Harry said seriously. “That kind of bullying won’t be tolerated. Now, Slytherins look after each other. If you have a problem with one of your housemates, it should stay in the common room. Outside of these walls, we present a united front.”

“That means Slytherin will always have your back, especially in public,” Tracy added. “But in private, as well. We look out for each other.”

“If you have any questions, please feel free to come to myself or Tracey any time between classes.” Harry finished. “Boys with me, please, and girls follow Tracey. We’ll take you down to your dorms.”

Just as Harry was about to turn and lead them away, one of the boys - Harry forgot his name - raised his hand. Amused, Harry exchanged a glance with Tracey.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Are you really Ryan Potters brother?" came the rushed, excited question from the first year. He was beaming up at Harry excitedly.

"Yes, Ryan is my twin brother," Harry said tiredly, all amusement gone from him. They weren't identical twins, but they were similar enough in appearance that it should be obvious that they were related. Why, then, did that question persist? 

"Wow," the boy said.

"It's really not that impressive," Harry assured him, biting back his impulse to say that _Ryan_ wasn't that impressive, either. Still, he could leave the kid's illusions intact, for now. "Now, come on, all of you."

He split up from Tracey and the girls, and lead the boys down a spiraling stone hallway to the first door, emblazened with 'First Years,' in silver script. He pushed open the door, and ushered his followers in.

"Your trunks will have been put in front of a bed," he said, pointing them out. "If you want to trade, I'd do it tonight, and then stick with one bed. If you need anything, my dorm is just down the corridor - it says 'Fifth Years.' Professor Snape is our head of house, and he'll hand out your class schedule in the morning," he added hastily, realizing he had forgotten to mention it before. "Good night."

Closing the door behind him, Harry headed down the curved pathway to his own dorm, four doors down. He hoped the eager first year wasn't going to be an issue. He'd had people pester him about his brother before, and it was never a pleasant experience.

"How were the firsties, Harry?" Malfoy asked from where he was sitting on his bed, already in his silk pajamas. Harry groaned, leaning against the door and letting his head fall back against it with a _thunk_.

"That bad?" Blaise said with a grin. 

"It's not that I didn't want to be a prefect," Harry said. "I just wish I could skip the part where I have to coddle them."

There was laughter from the dorm, and Harry grinned a bit. With a sigh, he went over to his bed and kicked off his black dragonhide boots and opened his trunk. Pulling off his robes, he was soon in his own pajamas, ready for bed.

Crawling under the emerald blankets onto the soft sheets, he sighed, slipping his wand under his pillow. The last to get into bed, the torches dimmed to nothing, and Harry fell asleep to the dim light from the lake and the quiet breathing of his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A relatively quick update! Please don't expect this every time, though - I don't have an update schedule for this story, so it might be a bit random.


	3. professor rowle

The next morning, Harry escorted the first years to breakfast along with Tracey. They followed behind him like ducklings, and he hoped they would learn to navigate the castle quickly. As seriously as he took his prefect duties, he didn't want to be chained to the first years.

Neither the head boy nor girl were in Slytherin that year, which meant Harry would have to meet with them regularly. Rachel Devereaux, the head girl, was a Ravenclaw, and Felix Vaughan, the head boy, was a Hufflepuff. Neither of them, in Harry's opinion, was particularly remarkable. Still, he didn't have any objections to them, either. They had a reputation for being fair, which is what was important.

Too many people favored Gryffindor as it was. He didn't need to add the head boy and girl to the list.

After getting his patrol schedule from the head boy, Harry sat next to Theo, digging into his breakfast.

"The first years aren't giving you any trouble, are they?" Theo asked, in between bites.

"Not really," Harry said, helping himself to some pumpkin juice. "Just one asked if I'm the great Ryan Potter's brother."

Theo rolled his eyes.

"Of course they did," he muttered, just as annoyed as Harry.

Just then, Professor Snape appeared with a stack of parchment - their class schedules. He handed them out perfunctorily, as he did every year, and Harry took his with a quiet 'thank you.' He preferred to keep on Snape's good side. Their relationship, such as it was, had started out somewhat rocky, due to Harry's father. Thankfully, Harry proved that he wasn't a very good Potter, and Snape seemed to forgive him the accident of his birth. They weren't what one would call close, not like Draco and Snape, but Harry had a healthy respect for his head of house, and Snape seemed content to leave him be.

Or so Harry had thought. But then he had gotten prefect over Draco, and that had turned his whole perception of Snape upside down.

Because Harry had expected Draco to become the Slytherin prefect - of course he had. Malfoy was Snape's favorite student. For him to choose Harry instead... either Snape had some plan Harry wasn't aware of, or he respected him more than Harry thought.

He kind of hoped it was the latter.

Still eating, Harry looked down at his schedule. He had all the core classes, plus arithmancy and ancient runes as electives. He shared neither with his twin.

Regardless, September the first that year had fallen on a Friday that year, which meant he had most of the weekend to do as he pleased before classes started. Harry would like to get started on studying for O.W.L.'s, but that seemed a bit excessive, even for him.

Cassius Warrington, that years quidditch Captain, came around as Harry was thinking about how to spend his free time.

"Potter," he said in his gruff way. "I've books the quidditch pitch for tomorrow morning. We should get in some training before classes start. I hope you won't let being prefect interfere."

"Of course not," Harry said, a bit offended that Warrington would think so little of him. "I've already talked to the head boy. I can work out my schedule around quidditch practices."

"Good. Be at the pitch at seven." Warrington said, walking away. Harry rolled his eyes. It would be Warrington's first year as captain, and last, considering he was a seventh year.

Harry certainly hoped they won the Quidditch Cup this year, as they had since Harry had joined the team in his second year. Ryan, of course, had been given special privileges to join in his first. More luck of the Boy-Who-Lived.

More like special treatment.

Honestly, Harry didn’t know how it didn’t bother more people. Sure, Ryan wasn’t exactly as popular as he used to be - the students mostly got sick of his entitled attitude. But somehow, most people overlooked it. Being the Boy-Who-Lived had it’s perks, he guessed.

Harry sometimes wondered what being the Boy-Who-Lived entailed, besides fame. If Voldemort was defeated for good, and Harry had reason to believe he was not, would Ryan just... continue on being famous for the rest of his life? Skate by on something that had happened when he was one year old?

Or would he have to fight the Dark Lord?

Harry didn’t envy him if that was the case. After all, You-Know-Who was one of the most powerful wizards to ever live. And no matter how much was made of Ryan’s skill, he was a mediocre wizard, at best. At least, in Harry’s opinion. So far as he knew, his twin was middling so far as grades went. And he had never shown any extraordinary abilities beyond what you would expect from the son of decently powerful witch and wizard.

That wasn't to say that Harry thought he was any better, except that he put actual effort into his schoolwork. Even onto learning magic beyond the curriculum.

Harry didn't know. Maybe fate had a sense of humor, and the less famous twin was the more powerful one. Maybe there was no such things as fate, only accident.

Maybe no one would ever know.

Harry spent the rest of his weekend split between practicing on the quidditch pitch and studying for the new school year - and perhaps studying some things his teacher would not be going over. Nothing forbidden, nothing _dark_. Just complicated or esoteric.

Bright and early Monday morning, Harry ate breakfast before making his way to their first class of the year - Potions with the Gryffindors.

Despite, or perhaps because of, his relationship with Professor Snape, Harry had never been very fond of potions. Not to mention the fact that it was one of the few classes he shared with Ryan. That wasn't to say he was bad at the subject, just that he didn't excel at it.

Professor Snape gave a rather typically stern lecture on the importance of the O.W.L.'s, which Harry thought he should probably get used to. After all, the Ordinary Wizarding Levels would be the first taste of adulthood for many of the students, the first exam that would affect their future. Of course the teachers would encourage them to take it seriously.

Harry Draught of Peace turned out adequately, and altogether it was a somewhat dull first class back, for which Harry was grateful. He didn't need the kind of excitement potions usually brought, especially on his first day. While his twin managed to scrape by, Neville Longbottom in particular tended to cause explosions or melted cauldrons or some kind of disaster. He was quite obviously terrified of Professor Snape, which Harry didn't really understand. Yes, Snape could be intimidating, and yes, even cruel to those he deemed incompetent - but he was still only a professor.

Ah well. Not all Gryffindors could live up to their house name of bravery, he supposed. Certainly not all Slytherins were that cunning.

Harry's next lesson was the one they were all looking forward too, and as they headed to the Great Hall for lunch, Theo brought it up.

"What do you think Defense is going to be like?"

"So long at it's better than last year, I'll be happy," Pansy said with a sniff.

Moody, while unusually competent, was paranoid and seemed to think that all Slytherins were budding dark wizards. Harry might have pointed out that there were dark wizards from other houses, but he doubted that would do anything but increase the man's paranoia.

"He will be," Draco assured them. "I keep telling you, I met him during the summer. He taught me this cool spell, look," Draco pulled out his wand as they sat, waving it shortly.

" _Muffliato!_ "

"What does it do?" Harry asked.

"It prevents people from listening to our conversation. If they try to listen, all they hear is a buzzing sound. Useful, right?"

"Very," Daphne commented, clearly interested. She and Pansy were the gossip queens of Slytherin, and no doubt a spell that could keep their secrets was appealing. Even Harry could see how it would be useful.

Draco canceled the spell, as they weren't speaking about anything particularly interesting or secretive at the moment. Still, it _was_ a useful thing to know.

Perhaps their new professor knew something, after all. And just in time for their O.W.L. year, as well.

Finished with their lunch, Harry and the rest of the fifth year Slytherins got up and headed to Defense early, too curious to wait any longer.

Harry and Draco both went for seats in the front row, their respective groups of friends surrounding them. Harry took out his defense textbook, parchment, and a quill, and they sat there, unusually quiet as they waited for class to begin.

Exactly on the hour, Professor Rowle swept into the room, his robes billowing behind him in a fashion that usually only Professor Snape managed.

"Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said, his voice velvet and soft, yet easily heard by the entire class. "I am Tiberius Rowle, and I will be your professor this year. I understand your education in Defense has been somewhat irregular, however, you will be held to the same standard that I require of all of my students."

He moved out from behind his desk, leaning against it and crossing his arms. Even this move looked elegant, Harry thought.

"As your O.W.L.'s are at the end of this year, much of it will be spent preparing for your exams. If you do the work in my class, you will pass them. I expect that each one of you will get an Acceptable or better," he said, his gaze searching as he looked over his new students.

He made eye contact with Harry, and once again the pain in his scar surged, though not nearly as badly as it had the last time he had locked gazes with Professor Rowle. He flinched, and Rowle frowned ever so slightly before looking away, continuing on.

"Today we will be discussing the nature of dark magic and the practicalities of it's defense. Now, who can define dark magic for me?"

Several hands shot up, Harry's among them.

"Ms. Parkinson," Professor Rowle said, pointing Pansy out.

"Dark magic, also know as the Dark Arts, are typically defined as magic of which the main purpose is to cause illness or injury."

"Indeed, five points to Slytherin for a succinct yet accurate answer. However, there is more than one definition. Mr. Potter?" he asked, as Harry raised his hand.

"The Ministry of Magic has re-classified some magic as dark, regardless of it's intent," he said demurely. "Such as blood magic, which can be used to heal, or ritual magic. So one might define the Dark Arts as illegal magic."

"Very good, take five points. However, the difference between those definitions can be somewhat controversial, so be cautious who you discuss it with. Dark Magic can also be defined as magic that uses negative emotion to enact, such as the Cruciatus curse, which requires a strong desire to cause pain. As you can see, there is no one hard and fast rule to define the Dark Arts, which makes them somewhat nebulous. As Mr. Potter points out, for every day definitions one can use the Ministry rules, however when discussing theory, it can become more complicated. Any questions?"

There were none. Stereotypical or not, they _were_ Slytherins, and most of them came from dark families. They had been discussing and debating the dark arts for years, though they had never delved into them. Or, at least, so far as Harry knew.

What followed was a truly fascinating lecture on the theory of dark magic, it's many definitions, and the ministry view on more unusual spells. After all, one needed to understand the enemy to defeat it, or so Professor Rowle said.

"Next class we'll begin practical work, starting with perfecting the _protego_ charm and learning a more advanced shielding spell," Rowle said, and Harry was surprised. He had been so intent on the lecture, he hadn't realized that the class was nearly over.

The bell rang, and over it their professor spoke.

"For your homework! Find one defensive spell you'd be interested in learning, and write one roll of parchment on it's uses."

As the class gathered their things, already talking about the spells they would choose and how good the class had been, Harry heard Professor Rowle over the din.

"Mr. Potter, if you'll stay after class, please."

"Are you in trouble already, Potter," Draco teased, and Harry rolled his eyes. Pulling his bag over his shoulder, he waited as the rest of the class shuffled out of the room, before approaching Professor Rowle's desk.

"You wanted to speak with me, professor?" he said, curious.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. I noticed that you seemed to be having some trouble at the beginning of class, and I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Oh," Harry said, already having forgotten the pain in his scar. "It was just a headache. It went away already," he said dismissively.

But Rowle looked as if he suspected it was something more. Harry didn't want to mention that the pain only came when they had made eye contact, or that it was the second time he had felt it. He didn't know what it was, but as determined as he was to find out, he didn't want to involve his new professor.

"I see. Well, if it persists, I suggest you speak to Madam Pomfrey."

"I will, sir."

"Good. I hope you enjoyed your first class?"

"Oh yes, professor. It was very interesting." Harry said eagerly. "The difference between dark and light magic has always interested me, but none of our other Defense professors talked about it. They acted as if it was obvious."

"Most people do," Rowle said. "You'd best get going. I believe you have another class this afternoon?"

"Yes, sir."

Harry turned, and headed off to catch up with his friends. Draco had been right. Rowle was a good teacher.


	4. the come and go room

By the end of the week, the who school was abuzz with gossip about Tiberius Rowle. Nearly everyone, from the first years to the seventh, from Slytherins to Gryffindors, found him to be brilliant. Such universal popularity was uncommon in Hogwarts, especially when it came to Defense Professors, who, in Harry's experience, divided the school. Only the professor from his first year, Quirinus Quirrel, had so united the students, but that was the annoyance of the garlic smell in his classroom and his nearly unintelligible stutter.

Professor Rowle, on the other hand, was already well known to be a competent teacher who delivered fascinating lectures. gave interesting homework, and assigned points when they were deserved regardless of house affiliation.

The only complaint Harry heard was from his twin. He didn't make it a habit of seeking Ryan out, and Ryan certainly didn't go out of his way to talk to Harry, but they still ran into each other. And Harry wasn't above eavesdropping on his brother.

"His whole family is dark," he heard Ryan whisper to his friends the second weekend of school. "I wrote to my dad, and he said that Rowle's brother was a Death Eater. You know, Hermione, a follower of You-Know-Who! I bet he's just waiting to get me on my own."

Harry rolled his eyes and moved on to the next shelf. It was just like Ryan to think everything was about him. And besides, Harry didn't think it was at all fair to judge someone by their family's choices. He didn't think that Ryan should think it was fair, either, considering some of the things he had said to Harry when he was first sorted into Slytherin.

But hypocrisy was a Potter family trait, or so Harry thought, so he paid it no mind. If Rowle really was related to a Death Eater, and Harry had no doubt about that at all, it didn't affect his teaching abilities. In fact, if he knew dark magic, it would make him all the more effective at teaching its defense.

Harry was a firm believer in knowing one's enemies, after all.

The rest of his classes weren't nearly as good. None of the other teachers were incompetent, except for maybe Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic. But Defense had always been Harry's favorite subject, and he hadn't had such a competent professor since Lupin in his third year. But even Lupin had focused a bit too much on dark creatures, and not enough on spells.

And, of course, he was Ryan's godfather, which, Harry admitted to himself, probably predisposed him to dislike the man. Justified or not.

Harry's own godfather, Sirius Black, was in Azkaban for betraying the Potter's to the Dark Lord and murdering thirteen muggles with a single curse.

Just his luck, really. The only man who might have taken his side when he was sorted into Slytherin, and he was rotting away in prison.

His father's close friend, Peter Pettigrew, had tried to step up as Harry's godfather and had even written a very sympathetic letter to Harry after he was sorted, saying he was nearly in Slytherin himself. But Harry had never been that fond of Peter. He tended to be James' yes man, agreeing to nearly everything he said. At least Remus Lupin stood up for himself sometimes. But he was too easily cowed by James, even if he was kind to Harry and treated him the same as his brother.

It was a very low bar to reach, in his opinion, and he gave the man little credit for it.

The rest of Harry's classes were no different than previous years, save that the work was more difficult than ever and the homework took even longer to complete. Harry understood the need to prepare for their O.W.L.'s, but with quidditch practice and his prefect duties on top of that, he had very little free time. He didn't mind, much, except that he barely got to read what he wanted anymore, instead reading only his assignments.

No one else in his year was quite so preoccupied - he was the only prefect who was also on their houses quidditch team. He even sometimes wished that Draco had been given the position, but of course, as one of their chasers, he would have been equally as busy. Of course, Harry didn't _really_ want to give up his prefect badge - he was too proud of it for that. Still, he missed the relative calm of his fourth year.

The worst part of the year, so far anyway, was that he had to spend more time than ever with Ryan. As a fellow prefect, along with his friend Hermione Granger, they had to meet up regularly under the head boy and girl's supervision. The purpose of these meetings was to put together the patrol schedules, as well as report any difficulties they had and points they had to take.

At first, Ryan looked pleased and proud to be there. But, Harry was happy to see, he soon seemed to realize that being prefect had little glory and a lot of work. Harry overheard him complaining a few times to his friends, and once he even skipped a prefect meeting. To Harry's delight, the head girl lectured him about it in front of them all at the next meeting, and Ryan had turned red as a beet.

Apart from that, being a prefect was rather boring. Harry, while tempted to abuse the position once or twice, kept to the rules. He patrolled, he took points only when necessary, and he was altogether a model student. And how it rankled.

He wasn't a troublemaker, not exactly, but Harry had, in the past, been used to breaking the rules when he felt the need or desire to do so. He was very rarely caught - he'd only had detention a handful of times, and he gained more points for Slytherin than he lost. But he liked exploring the castle, going to the kitchens, or looking for hidden passages. He reasoned that he knew his twin was doing it, so why shouldn't he. But the truth was, he wondered why more students _didn't_ do it.

Harry only wished he had the invisibility cloak his brother had. He wasn't supposed to know about it - something about resentment and favoritism - but Ryan had bragged about it too much in their first year, and so he was in on the secret. As far as the map, well. Ryan was supposed to share it, or so their father had said before they left for Hogwarts. But then Harry had been sorted into Slytherin, and no more had been said about it.

Despite his busy schedule, Harry did have time to practice a few advanced spells, and by the time October rolled around, he had mastered the disillusionment charm. It wasn't as good as an invisibility cloak, not by a long shot, but in the dark of the night, it would do.

As Halloween approached, Harry's mood darkened. He _hated_ Samhain. Every year, Ryan would grow more and more smug as the holiday approached, and by the Halloween Feast, he was practically glowing with self-satisfaction. It was, after all, the anniversary of his defeat of the Dark Lord.

Harry couldn't stand it.

Besides, the holiday had been bastardized by modern times and the influence of the muggle world. What was once a day of honoring the deceased and celebrating their lives had become a sweet-filled night of amusements. It was disgusting, really, and he personally chose to celebrate Samhain the way it was meant to be celebrated. That wasn't to say there shouldn't be a feast or any of it, just that there was more to it than carving pumpkins and candy.

The feast, as he expected, was torturous. Certainly, the food was good, and especially the sweets, but even at Slytherin table Harry could hear Ryan going on about his memories of the night he defeated You-Know-Who.

"I heard my mother," he would say dramatically, Harry having heard this story countless times. "She was begging him to let me live, me and Harry," and oh how he hated that he was a part of the story. "But he laughed, and it's the worst laugh I've ever heard. High and _creepy_. And then there's a bright red light, and more laughter. Then I heard the words," here, Ryan's voice lowers dramatically, " _Avada kedavra!_ And there's a _green_ light this time, and I remember that it hurt so bad, just here," he would say, touching his chest, where there was a deep scar. "And then I hear a scream, and it's so loud! The sound of You-Know-Who _dying_."

Harry found the whole reenactment to be ridiculous. And he was certain that Professor McGongall, the head of Gryffindor, didn't approve either. She had a whole load of first years who knew the incantation of the killing curse now, after all, and that wasn't something to be envied.

By the time the feast ended, Harry was full of food and resentment. He had such a scowl on his face that the firsties and even a few of the second years were completely avoiding him

"Harry, mate, are you alright?" Blaise asked him, obviously concerned. As Zabini was usually above such things, Harry assumed his expression was something to behold, indeed. He smoothed his face with a sigh.

"I'm fine," he said, running his hand through his hair. "Just need to take a walk."

"I'll tell the others not to wait up for you," Blaise said, still looking worried as he headed for the common room.

Harry sat for a moment longer at the Slytherin table. He wasn't scheduled to patrol that night, though he wished that he was. It would give him something to do.

He watched as Ryan left the Great Hall, hangers-on and admirers following his every step, and sighed again. Not even a glance towards Harry.

He sometimes wondered what Ryan thought of him. Did he still have the same opinion of him as he did in the days after he was sorted? Or had he matured?

Harry somehow doubted that.

Rising from his seat, he glanced towards the professors, only to see the headmaster watching him. They made brief eye contact before Harry turned away hastily.

He didn't need to see the sad expression on Albus Dumbledore's face. He didn't want his pity or his sympathy.

Harry left the hall not sure where he was going to go, only that he wasn't going to head back to the common room. He cast the disillusionment charm, and, aimless, he wandered for a while in the dark hallways. It wasn't that unusual for him. When he had first come to Hogwarts, and his father had expressed his disapproval and his twin wouldn't talk to him, Harry was often unable to sleep at night. Sometimes he read, his wand lit under his curtains, and sometimes he wandered.

Professor Snape had only caught him the one time. Purple circles under his eyes, dressed in his pajamas and slippers, Harry had taken an absolutely vicious lecture outside the Charm's corridor for being out after curfew. He remembered Snape finishing, a sneer on his face, just as he compared him to his father, and Harry had frowned, looked up at him, and apologized.

Because Harry had no longer wanted to be like his father.

Snape, he recalled, had raised an eyebrow expectantly, as if waiting to hear something else, but Harry hadn't had anything else to say. With a weekend of detentions for his crime, Harry had simply been escorted back to the Slytherin common room, Snape oddly quiet.

He had gone to bed, determined not to be caught again. And he hadn't been.

Now, with the disillusionment charm and the silencing charm he had learned back in second year, he never would be.

Harry climbed up to the seventh floor, half thinking he might go to the astronomy tower and look at the stars. He didn't usually go that way, however, and was soon lost.

Passing the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy for the third time, Harry cursed, wishing again that he could find his way. As he turned, he froze.

There was a door.

A door that hadn't been there a moment ago.

Harry grinned, his sullen mood forgotten, at least for the moment.

There was nothing quite like finding out something new about Hogwarts. Walking on the stone that, perhaps, no one had walked upon in decades. Centuries, even. He had found several passages and a few hidden rooms. But he never lost the thrill of it.

He approached the doors, pulling them open, and frowned.

On the other side was the astronomy tower that he was looking for. He could even see the night sky, and the view across the grounds.

But that was impossible. He might be lost, but he knew perfectly well that he _wasn't_ in the astronomy tower - he was nowhere near it. Even if he was, he was in the middle of the castle, with no windows to be seen.

His grin widened. If he was right, and he hoped he was, then this was the best secret he had found yet.

He closed the door, trying to remember what he had done to make it appear. Three times, he had paced in front of the blank wall, concentrating on finding the astronomy tower. And then the door had materialized.

Turning, he walked back and forth again, three times, concentrating on the Slytherin common room. He wanted to tell his friends about this discovery, the door that could lead you to anywhere in Hogwarts.

Opening the door, his face fell slightly in puzzlement. The common room was there alright, with the lake over the ceiling and the green armchairs and the roaring fires. But it was completely empty. Even the portrait's inhabitants were gone.

"What in Merlin's name...?" he muttered, entering the room. He looked down at his watch, and saw that not that much time had passed. It was Halloween, certainly, not everyone was in bed already. And there were no books or parchment scattered around as there usually was.

"It's a _replica_ ," he murmured slowly. "A recreation."

If that was true - if the room could do something like _this_ \- then it might be the most amazing place in the castle.

With an excited thrill and a quick beat of his heart, Harry left the room, closing the door behind him, and began to pace.

He was going to see what this room could do.


	5. the diadem

Several hours later and well into the night, Harry was satisfied. More than that, he was exhilarated. The room - for that's what it was - was _amazing_. He could make a path to anywhere in the castle, including the kitchens, where he stopped for a quick snack. The room was governed by the laws of magic, naturally, and he couldn't create food. But he could ask for almost anything else. He recreated his bedroom at home, the Potter library, even the Gryffindor Common room, which he had heard enough stories about to recognize.

The opportunities were endless.

Harry was especially eager for the fact that books appeared when he asked for them. Even those that he knew were from the restricted section in the Hogwarts Library or his father's private collection of confiscated volumes.

It also turned into a dueling platform when he requested that, and a swimming pool, and anything else he could think to ask for.

By the time the sun began to rise, Harry was too excited to be tired, though he knew he should be exhausted. Thankfully, it was Saturday, and he didn't have any classes to go to that morning.

Harry left the room with a spring in his step and a smile on his face and headed back towards the dormitories. He didn't want to leave yet, but he knew his housemates would worry if he didn't make an appearance.

Sunlight was streaming through the lake and into the common room when he arrived, though it was still deserted. He went down the stairs to the fifth year dorm, and hesitated.

Who should he tell? If he told anyone, that was. He trusted most of his friends to keep it a secret, but a part of Harry, a dark part of him, wanted to keep the room to himself.

At least, for now. Until he discovered more of its secrets. Until he understood the room properly.

He stripped and put on his pajama trousers, and crawled into bed, his eyes growing heavy as his head hit the pillow. His adrenaline was fading.

He slipped into darkness quickly, and dreamed about the room.

* * *

"Harry. _Harry!_ Wake up!"

He jolted awake, eyes flying open.

"Whassamatter?" he slurred, still half asleep.

"It's lunchtime," Theo said, sounding concerned. "You've slept all morning."

Harry groaned, closing his eyes again. He had quidditch practice that afternoon.

"Thanks, Theo," he said, forcing himself to sit up, the sheets pooling around his waist. "Warrington would have killed me if I missed practice."

"No problem," Theo said, looking away. Harry frowned slightly, but was soon distracted by the memories of the previous night - or rather, that morning. "Where were you last night?"

"I went exploring again," Harry said vaguely, not ready to tell even Theo about the room.

"Find anything?"

"Maybe," he said, not able to bring himself to completely lie to his best friend. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

Theo looked intrigued.

"That sounds interesting," he commented. "I look forward to hearing about it, eventually."

Harry smiled. Theo always knew when not to push.

He got out of bed, stretching his arms above his head with a grunt of satisfaction.

"You will," he said. "And trust me, it will be worth the wait."

Turning away, Harry didn't see the light pink blush that had appeared on Theo's face. He headed into the bathroom with a wave.

"I've got to hurry or I'll be late," he said over his shoulder.

He didn't bother showering, knowing that he would after practice, but brushed his teeth and hair. Pulling on his green and silver quidditch robes, he went out into the dorm to see that Theo had left. With a shrug, he headed up the stairs into the common room, and out onto the quidditch pitch.

Practice was grueling, as usual, but Harry's mood couldn't be lighter as he thought of a new way to test the room. Could he make a whole pitch in there? How big could it get? Could he fly in there on days when it was storming, instead of getting wet outside?

He caught the snitch several times, as usual. Even with Crabbe and Goyle, their beaters, hitting bludgers at him, or the chasers weaving around practicing their formations. Warrington didn't even have anything disparaging to say to him about his performance, which was unusual. Their captain seemed to believe in negative reinforcement, rather than positive.

Covered in sweat, he trudged into the changing room with his team after stowing his Nimbus 2001 in the broom shed. His mind still on the room, he didn't join in the playful teasing of the others, keeping to himself instead as his mind raced, eager to get back to the room.

As the team dispersed, Harry, still in his quidditch robes, headed into the castle and down to the kitchens. If anyone knew about the room, it would be the house elves.

Harry didn't really know what to think about house elves. The Potter's had one, Lolly, who was treated very well by his parents. And he knew the Malfoy family had more than one for their ostentatious manor house. He had never been completely comfortable being served by the house elves, who worked for so little and gave so much. It was too like his father and brother, who expected others to bow to their whims all the time.

So he treated the little things well, as it was the least he could do, and in turn, they were always pleased to see him.

He tickled the pear in the huge painting of fruit that hung in front of the entrance to the kitchens, and the painting swung open. He stepped inside, and immediately several elves approached him,

"What can we get for Master Potter sir?" the one at the front asked in her squeaky voice.

"Can I get some sandwiches? And a pitcher of pumpkin juice?" Harry asked. Not only was he starving from not having breakfast, the house elves always seemed more eager to listen if they could help first.

He sat down at one of the large wooden tables that mimicked the ones in the Great Hall, and before he could even blink there was a tray of several kinds of sandwiches and ice-cold pumpkin juice.

"Thanks," he said, and began to dig in. "Listen," he continued around a mouthful of ham and cheese, "I have a question about a room I found in the castle. It's on the seventh floor, by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy."

"Tizzy be knowing the room, Mister Harry Potter," said the house elf, clearly eager to help. "We is calling it the Come and Go Room. Many times we finds cleaning supplies."

Harry grinned. The Come and Go Room! A simple name, but accurate. To think of using the room only for cleaning supplies... ah well, he would never understand house elves.

"Thanks!" he said. "What else do people use it for?" he asked impulsively.

Tizzy looked around furtively, as if she wasn't supposed to answer that question.

"Tizzy be hearing that students use it to hide things. Things they should not be having, sir."

To _hide_ things? Harry wondered how you hid something in a room that changed all the time.

"Thanks, Tizzy, you've been a real help," he said, and she beamed up at him. He had managed to get them to stop hugging his legs sometime in his third year.

Leaving the kitchens, Harry headed right up to the seventh floor and the hidden door. Beginning to pace, he concentrated.

 _I want to find the hidden things,_ he though. _I want to find the room of hidden things. I want to find what people are hiding here._

The door appeared when he turned around, and, heart pounding, wondering what he would find, he pushed it open.

The room had grown to the size of the Great Hall, or maybe larger, and it was completely full. Stacks of books, trunks, wands, robes - anything and everything one might find in a school of magic, and more.

"Wow," Harry breathed.

He shut the door behind him, and started wandering. The hidden, or perhaps lost, items were arranged in rows, so that one could walk among them easily. He saw so much that looked interesting, so much he wanted to examine, but for the moment, he kept his hands to himself. There was no way to know what might be cursed.

As he turned to another pathway, he paused. There was that pain again, in his forehead, that radiated around his lightning scar. The one that he had felt twice, so far, and only around Professor Rowle. It was faint, this time, barely there, but enough to grab his attention.

This was no headache, no migraine. This was something different, something magical.

Perhaps something to do with Voldemort.

But then, why would Professor Rowle cause it to hurt? Did he have something to do with the Dark Lord? Or was it because he was a dark wizard? Maybe he had used some kind of spell or ritual that the Dark Lord had also used, maybe even the night he had been defeated.

There was no way to know, not for sure. But Harry turned, ready to leave the room. He fully intended on asking the room for books on curse scars, when the pain throbbed.

He froze.

Harry turned back around, and the pain lessened. He went for the door again, and, almost insistently, the pain pulsed harshly.

As if it did 't want him to leave. As if, perhaps, it was leading him somewhere in the room.

But that was impossible. Wasn't it?

Not able to resist, completely transfixed, Harry took a step further into the room. The pain lessened. He turned right. It increased.

Like some kind of twisted game, he followed the lack of pain through the room, until he stood in front of a closed wardrobe.

This was where the pain wanted him to be, he was sure of it.

Slowly, Harry reached forward and opened the doors of the wardrobe. Inside was a stack of books, and a dingy silver crown. Ignoring the books, he reached for the silver ornamentation, picking it up.

The pain flared, white-hot and searing, and he cried out, nearly dropping the diadem. But just as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

He stared down at the circlet with a wondering frown on his face.

What was it? More importantly, how was he connected to it?

He slipped the crown into the inner pockets of his quidditch robes, and, in a daze, he made his way out of the room, following the twisting path automatically.

Closing the door of the Come and Go Room behind him, he headed down to the dungeons, ignoring everything and everyone he passed.

The time for secrecy was over. He needed help, another perspective, and he knew the exact people to ask.

Harry found Theo in the common room, and hastily cast the _muffliato_ spell that Draco had shown them.

Theo looked up from his book, a serious but questioning expression on his face.

"What is it?"

Harry slowly sank to the seat next to him, and pulled the diadem out of his pocket. But when Theo went to touch it, he pulled it back.

"Don't," he said sharply. "I don't know if it's safe." And he began to tell the story of finding the Come and Go Room, looking for the room of hidden and lost things, and being drawn to the diadem through his scar.

Theo stared at the silver crown.

"And you said it hurt when you touched it?" he asked.

"Yeah, like nothing I've ever felt before. It wasn't just worse," he said, thoughtfully. "This was a different _kind_ of pain."

"I don't know, Harry," Theo said slowly. "This is really, _really_ weird."

Harry laughed shortly.

"I know," he said. "I _know_." He ran his finger through his still-damp hair, frustrated. "Maybe something happened to me that night," he speculated. "Some kind of, I dunno, reflection of dark magic that the Dark Lord used."

"That's an idea," Theo said. "Maybe you're sensitive to dark magic, somehow? Have you ever been around a dark object or spell before?"

"Not so far as I'm aware," Harry said, half questioning. "I mean, my dad has some books, and I've sneaked into the restricted section before, but nothing that would be cursed or anything."

"Well, the only way to know would be to expose you to some other kind of dark magic, and see if you react," Theo said logically. "That, or figure out what this thing is," he said, pointing to the crown.

"I don't know how we'd do that," Harry said. "It's not as if we could ask a cursebreaker or a teacher."

"What about Rowle?" Theo interjected. "I bet he could help."

"Yeah," said Harry doubtfully. "But there's no guarantee that he _would_. I mean, the man does work for Dumbledore. Even if he is a dark wizard, like Draco says, there's no promise that he won't turn me in."

"Turn us in, you mean," Theo said. "I'm not leaving this for you to deal with this alone."

Harry grinned a bit,.

"Thanks."

"I think I've read something, somewhere, about an enchanted diadem that has something to do with Hogwarts," Theo said thoughtfully. "Might have been _Hogwarts, a History_.

Harry laughed.

"You only read that book to shut Granger up," he said.

"Well, maybe now it's useful for something else," he pointed out. "I'll go to the library."

"And I'll lock this thing in my trunk," Harry replied. "I've got a few protective enchantments on there. It should be safe."

They went their separate ways, Harry feeling relieved. He wouldn't have to deal with this alone, after all.


	6. great ambition

The next day after breakfast, Harry took Theo to the Come and Go Room. He let his friend summon the door, watching him curiously as he paced back and forth in front of the tapestry. When the doors appeared, Theo pushed them open, and Harry followed him into a truly gorgeous library.

He had visited Theo at his home a few times over the Holidays, and immediately recognized the Nott library. He grinned - Harry had a thirst for knowledge, not for knowledge's sake but because it meant power. He was a Slytherin, after all.

"It's amazing," he said appreciatively. Theo smiled a bit shyly

"Thanks," he said. "I thought you'd like to see it."

He started scanning the bookshelves, obviously looking for something.

"I left my copy of Hogwarts, a History at the manor," he said, "but it should be here somewhere... ah!" He pulled out a thick tome. "It's an older edition, from before Dumbledore got his hands on Hogwarts."

"Is it different from what Granger keeps talking about, then?" Harry asked, following Theo over to several plush seats in front of a roaring fireplace.

"Yeah. Some stuff is missing, like the changes Dumbledore made to the school. But there is a lot that has been edited out in the new one."

That sounded interesting to Harry, and he wondered why more people didn't read it. He asked Theo.

"The writing is kind of dry," he responded with a bit of a laugh. "And there's nothing there you can't find elsewhere, if you know where to look. It was mostly meant for muggleborns, who didn't grow up waiting to go to Hogwarts and hearing about it from their parents."

"Not wonder Granger likes it so much," Harry commented. "So, what are you looking for?"

"Let me just find the section on the founders..." Theo muttered, flipping through the leather tome. "I _think_ it was Ravenclaw... here. _While each of the founders left fascinating heirlooms, none has been so eagerly sought as the famed Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. Said to enhance the wisdom and intelligence of the wearer, the Diadem was lost soon after Ravenclaw's death._ " 

Harry frowned.

"Do you think this is Ravenclaw's Diadem, then?" he asked doubtfully. "I mean, what are the odds of it being at Hogwarts, if it's supposedly lost?"

"Not high," Theo admitted. "But just think - what if it was?"

Harry did think that it would be kind of amazing if it really was Ravenclaw's lost diadem. The acclaim he would get for finding it after a thousand years _was_ appealing. But there was one flaw.

"I thought we decided that the crown I found was dark," Harry said. "Why would Ravenclaw's diadem be cursed?"

"Maybe someone else found it first," Theo speculated. "And did something to it. Or maybe it was cursed when it was lost. Who knows?"

"I still don't think it's actually Rowena Ravenclaw's," Harry said. "And I'm not going to put it on just to find out."

"I don't blame you for that," Theo said, though he sounded disappointed in Harry's lack of faith. "Well, you're sure it's safe in your trunk? I wouldn't want anyone to find it, if it's as dark as we think it is."

"Yeah. I paid for security enchantments, and then I added more spells after I was sorted into Slytherin. Even a few runes I learned last year. I doubt there's a more secure trunk in the castle."

"I remember when Draco tried to get into your trunk in our first year," Theo mused, a grin on his face. "He was certain you were spying for your brother. Ended up in the hospital wing."

Harry laughed. It was funny now, but back when he was eleven, Harry had been terrified. All his life he had been told that Slytherin was the house of dark wizards, and he was afraid that his sorting meant that he was dark, too. Not only that, but his brother had accused him of being a traitor, and his father wouldn't reply to his letters. And all of his new housemates were suspicious of him, or outright hateful.

He had proved himself quickly enough, but those first few weeks had been difficult. Not that he regretted a second of it - it had contributed in making him who he was.

"He never tried getting into my trunk again," Harry said, "but Snape was furious with me, remember?"

"Yeah, Snape was hard on you, that first year."

Harry shrugged. He couldn't exactly blame Snape for thinking he would be like James. Ryan certainly was, and they had been raised in the same house. And from what his mother had told him later, there was bad blood between the two men. 

"Well, he's made me a prefect this year. I guess his opinion changed."

Harry was glad, too. He admired Snape's skill at potions, as well as his rumored abilities in defense and even the dark arts. And it was good to have the tacit approval of his head of house.

"I'm just pleased it's you and not Draco. It was obvious that it would be one of you, and Draco would have been insufferable. It was bad enough when his father bought those brooms for the quidditch team and he bragged about being the reason we won the cup that year."

"I don't know, getting a Nimbus 2001 might have been worth it," Harry said thoughtfully. Until Lord Malfoy had gifted the broom to him, Harry had been stuck with an old Cleansweep Five, inherited from his father. Ryan, of course, had gotten a new broomstick.

"Maybe to _you_ ," Theo said, and Harry laughed.

It was nice, spending time with just Theo, knowing they wouldn't be interrupted. Harry liked all of his friends well enough, but Theo had been his first friend at Hogwarts. Quiet and easily overlooked, young Theodore Nott had been the first Slytherin to give Harry a chance. And Harry would never forget it. 

Harry's mind drifted to the diadem. While it was certainly _possible_ that it had once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, he decided that fact was irrelevant, at least for the moment. What mattered was how it reacted to him, or rather, how he had reacted to it. 

"I wonder if we could get our hands on another dark artifact," Harry mused aloud. "Just to see if I react to that, as well."

"I'm sure between all of our housemates, there's enough to start a museum. Or a war," Theo said with a sigh. "I know my father still has quite the collection, even with the Ministry cracking down on anti-muggle objects a few years ago. But he keeps a close eye on them, and I could never get away with sneaking one out of the manor."

Harry nodded, understanding. Thaddeus Nott, Theo's father, was a strict man, though he cared for his son greatly. But Theo had confided in him that the loss of his mother had changed Thaddeus greatly, and he could be somewhat harsh.

"Well, we'll think of something. Maybe over Yule, you can visit, and we can get you into the vault."

"I don't know," Harry said doubtfully. "My mother wanted me to come home this year."

"Maybe at the Malfoy Yule party, then? You're always invited."

"There's an idea," Harry said. "But what would we tell Draco?"

"The truth, or at least some of it," Theo said, a gleam in his eye. "You know how fascinated Draco is by the Dark Lord, and even by what happened to your brother. If you say that it had something to do with what happened that night, he's sure to be interested in helping."

Harry nodded, but he was thinking of a different way to find out of he responded to dark magic. If someone cast a dark spell, for example, and his scar hurt, he would know for sure.

But could he ask that of Theo?

He had discussed the theory with his friends, of course. Most of Slytherin was interested in at least the idea of dark magic, of the power it possessed, even if they never did more than read about it. But no one had talked about actually casting dark spells, at least not with him.

Harry himself had never attempted the dark arts. Partially out of fear of his family finding out, and partially out of fear that he would find them too addicting, too tempting to resist. He had heard that happened, sometimes.

Then again, he had heard it from James, so he couldn't be sure that it was true.

Still, he wasn't about to ask Theo to do something illegal just to test this odd potential ability of his, not when they had a much easier way to test it. Harry was patient enough to wait until Yule.

"It's a good idea," he told Theo, not letting on that he had considered something else entirely. "Draco will probably be too proud of his family's collection to resist showing it off, in any case. But do you think we should tell anyone else about the room?"

Theo looked conflicted.

"It's a valuable resource," he said. "And we could certainly use it. But I don't like the thought of the secret getting out beyond our group. It will be useless if too many people know about it."

"Yeah. As much as I like Millie and the rest, there's a big chance that something could slip. So we keep it to ourselves?" 

"I hate giving up that potential for a place to hang out and practice magic, though. Using an abandoned classroom in the dungeon just doesn't cut it," Theo almost whined.

"What if we have them take some kind of oath to keep the room a secret?" Harry asked. "Or another kind of magically binding agreement."

"We've been practicing magic together for so long, it's about time we formalized our group a little," Theo said with a grin. "I bet even Draco's group would be interested."

"Do we even need it this year, though? Professor Rowle is more than competent."

"That's not the point," Theo said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "We can learn more together than we can apart, and not just in Defense. But an official study group would come with limitations," he added. "If we keep it private, we can learn whatever we wanted." 

The idea was taking hold of Harry. Even though Rowle was a good teacher, not all of their professors were. Binns, for example, was terrible. Different students had different strengths. They could help each other in their classes.

And with other things.

"Let's do it," Harry said. "Do you have any thoughts on how to keep it a secret?"

"A few," Theo said thoughtfully. "I'm thinking of a contract of some kind. But I'll have to do some research."

"If you need any help, let me know," Harry said, though truthfully, Theo was the better researcher. Theo waved him away, already up and walking into the stacks. No doubt the Nott library had extensive texts on magically binding contracts.

Harry leaned back in his seat, crossing his ankle over his knee, and let himself think.

The opportunity to practice magic with his friends was a good thing, of course. But Harry believed that there was a potential for more.

What that was, he wasn't quite ready to discuss with Theo. But he could admit it to himself. 

Harry was well aware that his opportunities in the world were both larger and smaller than others. After all, he was the twin to the Boy-Who-Lived - that opened doors. But if he used those doors, he would be forever in his family's shadow, unable to breathe. He had to forge his own path, make his own way, or he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

That meant making contacts. It meant taking advantage of every friendship he had. It meant being better than everyone else in the room.

He couldn't help but think of the opportunity that having this kind of magical contract over people brought. This kind of almost control. 

Because he would be the leader of their little group, that was certain. Theo was more of a follower, anyway, Harry thought, and a good person to have at your back.

A good second-in-command.

For the first time, Harry allowed himself to fully realize his ambition.

He would outshine the Boy-Who-Lived, yes, but it was more than that. He wanted to become the most powerful wizard since the Dark Lord, or Dumbledore, or even Grindelwald. Harry wanted people to whisper his name, in awe or fear, he didn't care.

Being a prefect and getting good marks on his O.W.L.'s would only get him so far.

He had heard that the Dark Lord had started gathering followers at Hogwarts, after all, and even Dumbledore still used the contacts he had made as a schoolboy. 

Yes, finding the Come and Go Room was probably the best thing that could have happened at this juncture. He looked forward to seeing what Theo came up with.

And he couldn't wait to see Draco's face when he realized that Harry was the one who would come out on top.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, uh, have [tumblr](https://phineasnigellus.tumblr.com/)? So check me out there, if you'd like.


	7. the duel

It took Theo about a week to come up with a decent agreement, and another two weeks for him and Harry to complete the enchantments upon it. With a combination of charms and rune work, they had an iron-clad contract that even the goblins should be proud of. 

The first weekend in December, Harry called a meeting of the fifth years in an abandoned classroom, using the  _ muffliato _ spell that Draco had shown them to ward off eavesdroppers.

"What's this about, Harry?" Draco drawled, leaning against the wall with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him.

"Theo and I have been thinking," Harry said. "We'd like to formalize our study sessions." He wasn't about to tell anyone who hadn't signed the contract about the Come and Go Room. 

"Like an official club?" Daphne asked, interested.

"No," Harry said. "If we did that we'd need a professor to sponsor us,  _ and _ allow in students from other houses. I think we should stick with Slytherins, don't you?"

There was a general murmur of agreement. While more than one of them had friends and relatives outside of their house, they still had loyalty to the house of serpents first and foremost.

"No, this is more of an unofficial group," he said. "To pool our resources, help each other study, and learn new spells."

"And I guess you'll be in charge, Potter?" Draco said with a sneer, as if the idea was foolish. 

"It was my idea," Harry said calmly. He wanted Draco in the group, wanted his skills and connections, but he couldn't show that.

The whole idea hinged on him being elected leader. The first person to sign the contract held it, that was the way their enchantment worked. And Harry was that person. Besides, who else would lead? Draco? Harry didn't think so.

"That's not good enough," Draco insisted. "If we're going to have a leader, and I'm not sure we need one, then it should be put to a vote."

This was tricky - Harry was confident that he was the more powerful of the two, but was he the more popular?

"I can agree to that," he said, "but only if it's an anonymous one." No need for peer pressure to influence anyone's decision, after all.

Draco's eyes narrowed. He knew what Harry was doing, but Harry was gambling on him being confident enough to think he would still win.

"Fine," he said abruptly. "An anonymous vote. Shall we write down the name and put it in a hat?" he added, a touch of sarcasm to his voice. 

"A good idea," Harry said jovially, as if Draco had been entirely serious. He pulled out his wand and conjured a wizard's hat, as no one in the room was currently wearing one. "Write down your votes. Draco and I will count them together."

There was a flurry of movement as everyone hastily pulled out quill and parchment, eager to vote for this new venture. Draco glared at Harry as he wrote down what Harry was sure was his own name. Of course, Harry voted for himself, as well, so perhaps he didn't have room to judge.

The slips of paper were dropped into the hat, one by one, until everyone had voted. Draco and Harry huddled together to count the votes.

As each one was pulled out, Draco got paler. In the end, he received only four votes, from himself and who Harry speculated to be Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

But Harry was a gracious winner, so he didn't gloat. Instead, he pulled out their enchanted parchment.

"Thank you. Now, everyone who is a part of our group will be required to sign a contract stating that everything that happens under the auspices of group activity will remain secret."

Draco, his pride stung, spoke up.

"A contract? What do you intend on doing at these meetings?"

Harry smiled mysteriously.

"You'll see if you sign."

In the end, they all did.

Harry thought it would be suspicious if every single fifth year Slytherin headed to the seventh-floor corridor in a group. What better way to draw attention to what they were doing? So instead, he gave them directions, and they headed off in groups of twos and threes. 

Harry and Theo left last, after Draco and his bodyguards had left.

"That went well," Harry commented as they left the classroom, canceling the  _ muffliato _ spell as they did. 

"Very. Draco wasn't happy, though. I hope he won't try to retaliate."

"I doubt it. That would just show that he was bothered by it all, and he'll want to pretend he's above it all," Harry said wisely.

As they reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, they found their year mates all gathered around it, waiting for him. Harry, without saying a word, began to pace.

_ I need a room to practice magic. I need a room to practice magic. I need a room to practice magic. _

The door appeared, and he pushed it open, grinning as he saw the large space the room had created for them, with a prominent dueling platform and several dummies.

He lead the group inside, and he could hear the  _ oohs _ and comments from them about the space.

Harry jumped up onto the dueling platform, gathering their attention.

"This is called the Come and Go Room," he said loudly. "You pace three times in front of the wall, concentrating on what you want, and the room makes it so."

Everyone was duly impressed.

"How'd you find it?" Daphne asked.

"Er, it was kind of an accident. I got lost on the way to the Astronomy Tower, and when I passed the door three times, it gave me a path to the tower." He rubbed the back of his neck, a little bit embarrassed.

"So this door can take us anywhere in the castle?" Pansy asked speculatively.

"Yeah, as far as I can tell."

"Can it make food?"

"Don't be stupid, Goyle, you can't conjure food," Tracey scolded.

"But you  _ can _ ask for books. I got it to recreate the Potter library," Harry said, redirecting them. "So it's great for studying."

"Even from the restricted section?" Millicent asked.

"Yeah."

There was a general muttering to this. They couldn't get into the restricted section without a note from a teacher, and the professors tended to be quite stingy with permission.

"What kind of things are we going to learn?" Blaise asked.

"Anything we want," Harry said with a grin.

"Even the dark arts?" Blaise pressed. There was silence as they waited for Harry's answer.

"If you want to," Harry said neutrally. "But I won't see anyone pressured into doing anything they don't want to do."

That seemed fair. Giving people a space to learn was important, but he wouldn't have bullying.

"Who's going to teach us? You?" Draco asked.

"I might give you some tips on Defense," Harry said. They all knew he was the top student in their year there. "But maybe you could help with our Potions work, Malfoy."

Draco looked surprised. Obviously, he had expected Harry to just take over.

"This is about helping each other excel, not just one person being in charge," Harry emphasized. "I want everyone to get good grades on their O.W.L.'s, yeah, but this is more than that. We're the best house at Hogwarts, and the best year. We can be great, all of us."

And with Harry in charge, they would be.

"What should we call ourselves?" Theo asked. "Our group ought to have a proper name."

"Potter's Army?" Someone suggested with a laugh.

Harry laughed along with them. 

"No, don't be ridiculous," he said. 

"How about the Defense and Dark Arts Association? DADA for short? Then when we talk about it, people will think we're just talking about the class?" Tracey suggested.

"Good idea. Let's have a vote. All for the DADA?"

Nearly everyone raised their hands.

"Motion passed," Harry said, pleased. "We are now the DADA."

"Will we ever invite anyone else to join?" Daphne asked. Harry wondered if she was thinking of her sister, Astoria.

"Maybe," he said, reluctant to commit to anything at the moment. He did like the idea of adding to the group, but they would have to be careful who they invited. The contract was well done and they didn't have to worry about betrayal, but that didn't mean that Harry wanted just anyone to be able to join.

In fact, he doubted he would have had every fifth year Slytherin join if it wouldn't have been too suspicious. Whoever was left, and Harry could think of one or two people that might be, would surely notice the rest of them spending so much time together. But some older Slytherins, sixth and seventh years, could be invaluable with their knowledge. And there were certain skilled students in the lower years, Astoria among them, who might be trusted with joining.

"Let's stick with just fifth years, for now," Harry added. "Maybe once we get going we can talk about adding in others. Does that sound good for everyone?"

The rest nodded, some more reluctantly than others, but none raised an objection.

Harry was pleased. It was going far better than had thought. Perhaps his fellow students respected him more than he knew. He glanced at Theo, who looked at him knowingly.

"Now, since we're all here, I thought we could start with something fun," Harry said, allowing some of his excitement to leak into his voice. "Who feels like a little dueling?"

There was a pleased reaction. While they had so-called dueling lessons in their second year, from Professor Lockhart, they had been more of a demonstration of his incompetence. So while they had picked up the basics, there was still much to learn.

"Alright," Harry said, but before he could jump down from the dueling platform to start pairing them up, Draco spoke.

"Why not you and I, Potter?" he suggested.

Harry wasn't surprised, but he  _ was _ pleased. If there was any lingering doubt about his leadership, especially from those who had voted for Draco, this would be the perfect opportunity to put them to rest.

"Sounds good," he said, with a grin, and reached down to help Draco onto the platform. Malfoy ignored his hand

So it was going to be like that, was it? Fine.

Harry could work with that.

"What rules do you want to go by?" He asked Draco, happy enough to let him choose.

"First one disarmed or knocked out loses?" Malfoy suggested.

"Agreed. Pansy, will you count down for us?"

She looked surprised, but nodded, raising her wand.

Harry and Draco took their places at each end of the platform, and bowed, neither of them looking away from the other, befor taking their dueling positions, wands in the air.

Pansy raised her wand up.

"Three, two, one... start!" she shouted, bringing her wand down in an arc of green and silver sparks. Before they could even dissipate, Draco was on him.

" _ Langlock! _ " he shouted, a spell that Harry had never heard before. Suddenly, his tongue was stuck to the top of his mouth, and he could no longer speak.

Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for Draco, he had been practicing silent casting since the previous year. Still, he was annoyed that Draco had got the first spell in.

Harry cast a disarming charm, and Draco blocked it, looking surprised and angry that Harry could manage a silent spell. He sent a tripping jinx, and Draco blocked it again.

" _ Inflamari _ !" Harry mouthed. Draco's robes caught on fire. While he was busy casting  _ aguamenti _ , Harry stepped forward with yet another spell,  _ fumos _ , to create a smokescreen. While Draco couldn't see him, Harry flicked his wand, focusing on  _ finite incantatem _ , the first silent spell he had taught himself. His tongue was free to move again, and just in time, as he heard Malfoy cast another spell.

" _ Serpensortia _ !"

Harry froze as he heard the snake speak. Discovering he was a parselmouth in his second year had been world shaking, but ever since, he had been fascinated by serpents. 

Fascinated enough to hesitate when the adder came at him, rising up, fangs exposed.

"Wait!" he said, panicking. "Stop!"

The adder froze. So did Draco Malfoy, who looked at him, both fascinated and horrified. He raised his wand, and vanished the snake, which disappeared. The duel was over.

No one had won. 

"You're a parselmouth," Theo whispered, flicking his wand to disperse the smokescreen spell. He looked surprised and hurt, and Harry would bet he was wondering why he hadn't been told.

"Yeah," Harry admitted reluctantly. Perhaps it was the remains of James' influence on him, but he felt ashamed and nervous now that people knew the truth. What would they think of him now?

"That's amazing!" squealed Pansy Parkinson.

Harry stared at her. He didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't that.

"Er," he said.

"How long have you been able to do that?" Crabbe asked, awe in his voice.

"Don't be stupid, Crabbe, you're born with the ability," Tracey, ever irritated, snapped.

"I've known since second year," Harry offered. "When you conjured that snake at Ryan during Lockhart's 'club,' Draco. I could understand it."

"And you didn't say anything?" Draco sounded almost confused.

"No. It was none of anyone's business," Harry replied stiffly. "It's not a big deal."

" _ Not a big deal _ ? Harry, you're the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived and you can speak  _ parseltongue _ \- the Dark Lord's most infamous trait."

Harry was furious. Here was the big revelation about himself, and all they could think about was Ryan.

Even his friends cared more about who he was related to, than himself.

"I have to go," he muttered, wanting to get out of the Come and Go Room before he lost his temper. He jumped down from the dueling platform, pushed through the small crowd, and out into the hallway. Slamming the door behind him, he looked up, and startled.

Professor Rowle was standing there.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I was wondering if someone would discover this room."


	8. revelations & opportunities

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, surprised, as he glanced around to see if anyone else was in earshot. 

The corridor was deserted.

Harry was half tempted to deny the existence of the room, but he knew that would never work, even if he felt desperate enough to try it. Rowle, had, after all, seen him shut the door behind him. Not even Lockhart would have fallen for it.

"Er," he said. "You know about the Come and Go Room, sir?" 

"Is that what you call it?" the professor asked, sounding amused.

"I asked the house elves if they knew about it, and that's what they called it." Harry felt a bit shy about his friendship with the house elves, but refused to be embarrassed.

If anything, Rowle sounded even more amused.

"When I found it during my school years, I called it the Room of Requirement. I have to say, it never occurred to me to speak to the house elves about it." But it didn't seem that Professor Rowle was mocking him. He sounded almost impressed, though Harry might be imagining it. "why don't we go for a bit of a walk? You look like you could use someone to talk to."

Harry hesitated. He  _ could  _ use someone to confide in, but did he want it to be Rowle? 

Then again, he didn't have anyone else, or at least, any other adults to talk to. 

"Okay," he said, moving to join Rowle as he began to head away from the Room of Requirement. The professor drew his wand, and cast  _ muffliato. _

"That's a useful spell," Harry commented. "Draco said you taught it to him."

"Will you believe me when I tell you that Professor Snape invented it?" Rowle said, a bit of smirk on his face. "He shared it with me some years ago, and I've used it often since."

Harry was impressed. He knew, of course, how talented Snape was at potions, and his skill at Defense was rumored to be legendary, but he'd had no idea that he was able to create spells. 

"Cool," he said, gathering this little fact among his hoard of knowledge. He loved learning more about people, especially secrets.

"Now, Harry," Professor Rowle, "Do you want to tell me what send you running from the Room of Requirement?" 

Harry hesitated. On the one hand, he liked Professor Rowle. Even with only a bit more than a month of classes, he thought he was the best Defense professor they'd ever had. 

But was that enough?

Thinking about it, Harry realized he genuinely liked Rowle. But more than that, he wanted to trust him. So Harry did what he so rarely did any longer - he confided in someone new.

"Well," he said, organizing his thoughts, "it's kind of complicated. Or maybe not. I told the others about the Room, so that we could practice magic there,"

"Aren't you worried about the secret getting out?" Rowle asked. Harry laughed, and if it was a bitter one, he tried not to think about it.

"No. We all signed a binding contract, that I hold," he said, and telling Rowle was easier than he had expected. "We were practicing dueling - me opposite Malfoy - and he conjured a snake."

Rowle was silent, but his eyes looked intently at Harry.

"The thing is," Harry said, hesitating for a moment, before plunging on. "The thing is, I'm a parselmouth."

Professor Rowle froze. It was only for a moment, and if Harry hadn't been looking for a reaction, he wouldn't have noticed. His mood plummeted. Of course, Rowle would think it was a dark gift, that made him a dark wizard. He was the Defense professor. But before he could try to defend himself, Rowle surprised him.

"Parseltongue is a rare and powerful gift," he said neutrally. "You should feel proud of your ability."

"Maybe," Harry said, at this point willing to admit that his reaction might have been over the top, hiding it for years. But he  _ did _ have to worry about it getting back to his father, so maybe it had some logic to it, after all. "But the point was, no one knew. And when they found out, all they cared about was my brother and his connection to the Dark Lord."

Saying out loud, Harry felt kind of childish for his reaction. But it had been a closely kept secret for so long... and his resentment of his brother ran deeper than he liked to admit to himself.

Rowle made an understanding sort of noise.

"I see. This gift is all yours, not from your family. But still, your friends thought of the Boy-Who-Lived first," he said. "I can see where that would cause some frustration." He seemed so understanding, Harry was relieved. He had been so worried about being thought of as childish. Especially by Rowle.

"Harry, you mustn't let others opinions bother you so," Rowle said. "It's clear that you've emerged as a leader in the school. Not only are you a prefect, but you Slytherin housemates also look to you for guidance. I've seen it in class and outside of it. Even the upper years seem to respect you. And all of this, coming from a notoriously light family, and a twin in Gryffindor. So why let this little thing bother you?"

At first, Harry wanted to defend himself. It wasn't a little __ thing. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Rowle was right. 

Why should he allow their opinions to dictate his actions? He never had before, after all.

So why was parseltongue so different? Because of his father. Because he was afraid of James and his reaction, if word got out. Harry sighed. He had thought that he was over worry about his father's opinions.

Apparently not.

Frustrated with himself, but relieved that he had named the root of the problem, he glanced at Professor Rowle.

"You're right," he said. "But it's hard, having a family like mine. I'm already an outcast at home. If they knew it was a parselmouth, it would be a thousand times worse."

"I'm surprised," Rowle said, and he sounded it. "You don't seem like you care about what the other Potter's think."

"I don't," Harry snapped, then calmed himself. There was no need to take it out on Rowle. "But I have to live with them, at least until I'm seventeen. That means I have to deal with them, and I want it to be as easy as possible. It's hard enough, being a Potter in Slytherin with James, the ultimate Gryffindor, as your father."

Rowle nodded.

"I see. It's practicality. You're worried about being kicked out, or cut off."

Harry flushed. He didn't like to speak his fears aloud.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I don't think mum would let him, but then again, I don't know what he'd do if he really thought I was a dark wizard. Turn me into the aurors. He'd probably be glad to be rid of me for good, no matter the shame it brought the family."

Rowle made a disgusted sound.

"Any respect I ever had for James Potter, and it wasn't much, has just vanished," he said. "No son or daughter should have to worry about that, especially of a man who proclaims himself to be on the side of good."

Harry shrugged. The conversation had made its way into uncomfortable territory, and he was eager to see it gone.

"Why were you at the Room of Requirement, Professor?" he asked, desperate to change the subject. Rowle seemed amenable to letting him.

"Oh, just looking for some peace and quiet. I don't mind teaching - in fact, I rather like it - but some of the faculty do tend to natter on, if they catch me in the Staff Room."

This, Harry could understand. How many times had he gone wandering, just to get out of the common room?

Suddenly, Rowle turned to him, halting their walk.

"If I told you a secret, Harry, could you keep it?"

"Of course," Harry said, trying to hide his eagerness. The professor wanted to confide in him?

"I can speak to snakes, as well," he said, but his voice came out a hiss that Harry recognized.

He gaped.

"You're a parselmouth?" he hissed back, unable to stop himself from slipping into the snake language. "But it doesn't run in the Rowle family!"

"It doesn't run in the Potter family, either," Rowle said, smirking. "Who knows? Perhaps one day you'll discover more."

He turned, and they continued walking together in silence. Harry's mind was reeling. Rowle spoke parseltongue? Was he really a dark wizard, then? Or was that more prejudice on Harry's part, to think so?

He didn't know.

Because the truth was, Harry was desperately afraid of becoming a dark wizard. And he hated that about himself. Because he was deeply fascinated by dark magic, but terrified of trying any spells at all. He blamed his father for that. There were consequences to growing up with a famous auror and war hero as your father, he supposed. No matter that he knew that dark magic didn't equal evil wizards, or bad people. He knew for a fact that many of his housemates practiced dark magic, and many more of their parents were dark wizards. Like Theo's father, or Draco's, both of whom were always kind to him.

Kinder than James Potter, at any rate.

It was just something he would have to get over, Harry decided. He wasn't going to allow his father to dictate his choices any longer. He was fifteen, not yet an adult but close enough to it, and if he wanted to practice magic, he would.

"You look deep in thought," Professor Rowle said.

Harry looked up from where he was staring at his moving feet.

"Just thinking about how much my father influenced me. I'm not happy with it."

Rowle laughed, but it was an understanding sort of sound.

"The adults around us when we are young always influence us more than we wish them to," he said. "That's the nature of growing up. You realize it. You change it."

Harry nodded. He supposed that was right, after all.

"Thanks for the talk, Professor," he said, looking up and realizing that they had reached the Defense Professor's office. "I needed it.

"Anytime, Mr. Potter. But if you don't mind, I have something else to discuss with you. Step inside, would you?" and he opened the door, ushering Harry inside.

Each Defense Professor had decorated their office differently. Quirrell's had been full of odd items and strong scents from his travels. Lockhart's had been covered in portraits of himself. Lupin's full of tanks and cages of creatures. Moody's was decorated with his enchanted, dark magic detection items.

Professor Rowle's was much less ostentatious. There was a large bookshelf, filled with texts on defensive theory, and a large desk, which was somewhat cluttered. Rowle sank into a plush chair behind his desk with a sigh, and Harry sat down in one of the comfortable chairs opposite him.

"What did you want to talk about, Professor?" Harry asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

"I've been meaning to speak to you for some time, actually," Rowle said. "You are one of the best Defense students in the year, and have been for quite some time, according to Professor Snape and your previous teacher's notes.  _ The _ best student that I have, certainly, and I'm counting the sixth and seventh years."

Harry was flattered, pleased, and immediately suspicious. Perhaps it was his Slytherin nature, but compliments often precluded favors, or worse.

"Er, thank you, professor," he said. He knew he was skilled at Defense. All of his professors had told him so.

Even Moody, who was terribly prejudiced against Slytherins, had admitted it.

Rowle looked amused.

"Don't worry so much, Potter," he said. "This is a favor  _ for _ you, not from you."

"How do you mean, sir?"

"I was wondering if you'd like some private lessons. It pains me to see a student as bored in Defense as you seem."

Harry wasn't bored, exactly, but he _ had _ read the entire textbook, and he knew most of the spells already. Rowle was interesting to listen to, and he often added information that Harry had never heard, but in the practical parts of lessons, it was usually terribly easy.

He opened his mouth to deny it, but Rowle raised a hand.

"Don't bother, Harry. I recognize that glazed look from my own days in Defense. I was also ahead of my peers, and I was fortunate enough to have a professor who saw my potential. I would be glad to pay that forward."

Harry couldn't bring himself to even think of declining the offer. The very idea of private lessons from a teacher such as Rowle was too tempting to ignore.

Especially when he knew that Ryan had been receiving private lessons since he was eleven.

"That would be amazing," he said. His schedule would be truly full, now, but it was more than worth it.

"Excellent."

Professor Rowle looks positively self-satisfied.


	9. the first lesson

Harry returned, somewhat sheepishly, to the Slytherin Common Room. After his talk with Professor Rowle, his reaction seemed childish and over the top. Thankfully, his friends forgave him.

Except, that is, for Theodore, who wasn't in the common room when Harry showed up.

"I think he stayed in the Room," Millicent told him quietly, apart from the others. "He seemed upset. Did you really not tell him about being a parselmouth?"

Harry nodded. Millicent looked at him like he was an idiot, but in a nice way. Harry certainly felt stupid, especially after Malfoy had his say.

"You realize that if you had told us that you were a parselmouth, no one would have ever raised and objection to your sorting ever again?" he asked. "Everyone knows that parsemouths belong here, in Slytherin."

It was a good point, and Harry blamed his upbringing for his shortsightedness. He blamed James and Lily for most of his faults, really. Or, at least, the most troublesome ones.

Not knowing what else to do, and feeling like a monumental ass, Harry headed back to the Room of Requirement, and paced back and forth three times.

_I'm looking for Theodore Nott, I'm looking for Theodore Nott, I'm looking for Theodore Nott._

When the door appeared, Harry pushed it open. There was Theo, sitting in a recreation of his garden at Nott Manor.

He looked up, saw Harry, and looked away.

Harry went to sit on the grass with him. It felt real. The sky looked real, too. but so did the ceiling in the Great Hall.

They sat in silence for a long while.

"I thought you trusted me," Theo finally said.

"I do."

"Then why wouldn't you tell me that you're a parselmouth?" Theo asked, and Harry could finally hear the anger he knew had been bubbling under the surface since the duel. Theo didn't shout - he never shouted - but Harry flinched as though he had.

"I'm sorry."

"That doesn't answer my question," Theo snapped, looking away.

"It was my bullshit to deal with, okay? My stupid father issues and self-hatred and fear. I couldn't tell anyone, because if I told, that would make it real."

The truth poured out of Harry's mouth quite against his will. But he couldn't deny Theo's plea - _why didn't you trust me?_

They were quiet for another long moment.

"You keep a lot of secrets, don't you, Harry?"

"I guess I do."

"You can tell me anything, you know."

Harry shrugged. It was an easy enough thing to say, but could he, really? Theo was his best friend. He trusted him more than anyone in the world. But Harry had learned a long time before Hogwarts that the only person he could rely on was himself. And that was a hard lesson to get past.

"I know that," he said. "I do. But it's hard to tell you things I can't even admit to myself."

"Like the fact that you think you might be a dark wizard?"

Harry stared. Mouth agape, he was half-tempted to deny it. But he saw the certainty in Theo's eyes. If he denied the truth now, if he lied, they would never be as close again.

"Yeah. Who else knows?"

"Millicent might suspect, if only because you're so careful not to ask about certain things," Theo said. "She's more observant than people realize."

"I noticed." Harry laughed, and it had a tinge of hysteria to it. "Merlin."

"You alright?" 

"I will be, I guess, I just... I thought I could go forever, not thinking about it. Stupid, huh?"

"Not really. We all have things that we keep secret, I guess. Even between best friends."

"Are you still mad at me?"

"Only a little," Theo said, shoving Harry's arm. "You prat! You can talk to snakes and you knew this whole time? How could you not tell me? More importantly, how did you not realize until our second year?"

Harry laughed.

"I dunno, I guess that was the first time I was ever close enough to a snake to hear it speak," Harry said. It made sense, in a weird sort of way - James would never allow snakes into his home, considering their reputation and association with the Dark Lord. "It's not like it runs in the Potter family. I had no idea to think that I could speak to snakes."

Theodore nodded thoughtfully.

"Yeah, that is really weird," he said. His eyes widened. "Maybe your mum's not really a muggleborn!"

Harry shook his head. That had already occurred to him. 

"No. Then Ryan would be a parselmouth, as well," he pointed out.

"Oh, yeah. I always forget about him."

Harry grinned, feeling warmed. It wasn't often that someone showed such an obvious preference of him over his twin. Even if he knew his fellow Slytherins like him better, they were more inclined to pretend he was an only child than say anything about it.

"So, we're good?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, we're good," Theo said quietly.

They sat for a while longer, enjoying the magical breeze and the charmed sun, and each other's company, before heading back to the common room together. 

Harry's first lesson with Professor Rowle took place just before Yule. Most students, Harry included, would be heading home for the holidays. So he was glad to get that lesson in before he had to deal with James.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, have you ever heard of the Patronus charm?"

"Yes," Harry asked, puzzled. "Isn't it used to repel dementors?"

"Very good, Harry. A very useful spell, indeed, for those who might face such dark creatures. And it's the spell I'd like to teach you first."

"Not that I'm not excited to learn," Harry said, "but is there a reason for that particular spell?"

Rowle looked pleased that he had asked.

"While it's a very advanced spell, I fully believe you will be capable of it. Furthermore, it will give me a good metric of your magical potential. Not to mention that if you are ever face-to-face with a dementor or lethifold, you'll be well equipped to deal with it."

This sounded agreeable enough to Harry. He had never been around a dementor, but from what he had read, having a defense against them was a good idea."

"The incantation is _expecto patronum_ ," Rowle said, taking out his wand. "If you can master the spell, even without a dementor present, you'll be a great deal more prepared than most witches and wizard when meeting one."

" _Expecto patronum_ ," Harry repeated the spell, memorizing it.

"Let me demonstrate." Professor Rowle took out his wand, holding it aloft, and incanted the spell. A great white figure erupted from it, long and sinuous, and Harry realized it was a serpent. A huge one, at least twelve feet long. The snake coiled at Rowle's feet with a wordless hiss. 

"Cool," Harry whispered, wondering if his own patronus would take the form of a snake, as well. If, that was, he managed to form one. Rowle flicked his wand after letting Harry admire it for a moment.

"Now," he said. "It takes experience and effort to create a corporeal patronus. Much more common is a more formless figure that looks like fog or smoke. But such a shield is flimsy, and won't protect you for long. A corporeal patronus, on the other hand, is a true guardian The most important thing about casting this spell is your emotional state. You must focus upon a positive memory, ideally a happy memory, and the emotions you felt at that time."

Harry frowned. While he had many somewhat happy memories, he couldn't think of one positive enough to create such a powerful spell. He thought back, letting his mind wander. The first time he flew? When he came to Hogwarts? When he met Theo?

What could be happy enough? Harry couldn't think of anything.

Professor Rowle must have seen the frustrated expression on his face, because he spoke with an understanding tone.

"If you're having trouble thinking of a memory, that's alright," he said in a gentle voice that Harry had never had directed at him before. "Not everyone has the kind of life that makes this an easy spell. So try this - instead of a specific memory, just try to think of happiness. It doesn't matter where it came from or why. Just think of the emotion and try to recreate it in your mind."

Harry nodded. This seemed more complicated yet somehow more achievable. Instead of thinking of some kind of ideal memory, Harry began to focus on the last time that he was happy.

When he realized that Theo wasn't going to desert him. He tried to capture that feeling, tried to make himself feel it again.

" _Expecto patronum!"_ he said forcefully, flicking his wand. A white, formless shape emerged from the tip, and Harry grinned. Sure, it wasn't corporeal, but it was a start.

"Well done, Harry!" Rowle said with a smile. "An excellent first attempt! Many wizards can't even manage this far."

"Thanks," Harry said, somewhat shyly. He was a skilled student, and not unused to praise, but somehow it was different from Rowle. Maybe because Harry respected him more.

Harry tried the spell a few more time, but had no more success at forming a shape. 

"Not to worry. It's a matter of your emotional state. If you give it some more thought and practice, you'll get it in no time," Professor Rowle said. He then hesitated, as if bringing up something he shouldn't. "Have you ever heard of an art call Occlumency?"

"No, sir," Harry said, puzzled.

"That's not surprising - it's incredibly rare, and some believe it borders on the dark arts, though it's not illegal. But I believe it may help you. Wait a moment," and Rowle headed towards his bookshelf, selecting a small, thin tome, the title of which was worn and illegible.

"Here," he said, handing the book to Harry. "Read this, and try some of the exercises. They may help you. I would caution you, however, to keep it to yourself. There are some who wouldn't look kindly on me for giving it to you."

Harry heard the unspoken warning - don't let your father see it. He nodded, and slipped the book into his bag.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll read it over break."

"Ah, you're going home for Yule?" Professor Rowle sounded almost surprised. Harry supposed he didn't blame him. The tension between him and his family was hardly a secret. 

"Yeah," he said. "My mum asked me to come, and she hardly asks for anything, so I guess I'm going." It was more than he usually confided in people, but there was something about Rowle that felt so familiar, he found that he couldn't help it.

Professor Rowle gave him a thoughtful look, like he wasn't sure what to make of Harry.

"I hope you have an enjoyable holiday, then," he said finally.

Somehow, Harry doubted it. Still, that would sound like whining, so he kept it to himself.

"Thanks," he said. "We'll have another lesson after break?" 

"Of course, Mr. Potter," Rowle said with a smile. "I would have it no other way."

It turned out that Theo was remaining at Hogwarts for the break, so Harry rode the train with Millicent and Daphne, who were both going home. It was a pleasant enough ride, even if the feeling of dread in Harry's chest grew stronger by the moment. He would have preferred to remain at Hogwarts, but as he said to Professor Rowle, his mother asked so little of him that he felt he couldn't say not to her when she did.

Once they arrived in London, Harry regretfully said goodbye to his friends, who were appropriately sympathetic. Though he looked forward to seeing them at the party the Malfoy's held every Yule. It was a political affair, and despite James's distaste for Lucius Malfoy and his family, he couldn't get out of going. 

After all, even the Minister for Magic attended.

Not to mention Harry's had plans for the yule party. Draco didn't know his part in it yet. but he would.

Harry walked out onto the platform, where he saw his mother waiting for him and Ryan. He felt tense and uncertain in a way that he hated, but he forced a smile on his face as he approached her.

"Mum," he said shortly, and she reached to give him a hug, which he allowed only briefly before pulling back. But Lily didn't have time to even say anything before Ryan approached, laughing, with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

"Mum!" he said, pulling her into a tight hug and completely ignoring Harry. "I missed you."

"Hi, Mrs. Potter!" Weasley said cheerily, and Granger gave a little wave. 

"Ron, Hermione. How good to see you," Lily said, and if she looked a little bit harassed, neither Ryan nor his friends seemed to notice.

"Well, there's my mum, I'd better go," Weasley said, waving to a hoard of red-heads. "Nice to see you, Mrs. Potter."

"And my parents are here too," Granger spoke up. 

"I hope I'll see you both soon," Lily said kindly, and Harry couldn't help the thought that she'd never been so warm to any of his friends. But he pushed it away.

No doubt Granger and Weasley would both be visiting for Christmas, and Harry would have to deal with their presence in Potter Manor. 

Delightful.

"Let's head home, shall we?" he said, and his mother reached out to take his arm. It took a skilled witch to double side-along, but then, no one had ever accused Lily Potter of being anything but.

"Let's," she said, taking Ryan's arm as well. She turned on her heel, and they disappeared from London with a _pop._


	10. yule

Life at Potter Manor was the same as it ever was.

Harry spent as much time in the library as he could, reading about anything that caught his attention, yet absorbing almost none of it as Ryan kept flying by the library windows, distracting him with his quidditch practice. Harry yearned to be on the pitch himself, for the freedom and distraction of flying, but he would rather not get into it with Ryan. Both were seeker and both were talented, and Ryan insisted on making everything a competition. If Ryan won, he would gloat, and if he lost, he would whine.

It wasn't fun at all.

James was busy with a flurry of activity at work. Harry wasn't privy to what that was, but he had overheard that they were posting human guards at Azkaban for the first time in centuries. It made Harry glad that he was learning the patronus charm. Even the mention of dementors was enough to give one chills. He remembered one time, about ten years previous, when Jame came home from a visit there. Harry was supposed to have been in bed, but of course, he had been up and eavesdropping.

James had been pale and shaking, drinking hot chocolate like a man starved. Harry had never seen his father look that way before. Harry had soon sneaked back off to bed, but not before he heard James's words. 

"He's mad, Lily. Ranted and raved and acted innocent. Thank Merlin for the new animagus wards."

He had been to visit Sirius Black. And Sirius Black was an animagus.

Harry kept that knowledge close to his heart, and it was only later that he figured out that his father was one, too. So was Peter. Illegally, of course.

And Remus was a werewolf.

It wasn't hard to put together, after that. They had learned the complicated spell in school, so that they could be with their friend on the full moon. A stupid, reckless, Gryffindor thing to do. 

Harry was almost jealous. Not that he didn't have friend, and that he wasn't close with Theo. But to have a group like that, so devoted to one's well being... Remus was lucky.

Or maybe James had just used the opportunity to break the law. It could go either way, with his dad. Either way, Harry wanted to be an animagus as well.

He knew Ryan did, too. Harry wondered if he and James talked about it during their  _ secret lessons _ that he wasn't supposed to know about. Harry would bet they did.

He wondered if Professor Rowle knew anything about being an animagus. He would ask.

So the day passed, each more dull than the last. Snow had finally fallen, and so Harry was denied even the refuge of going out onto the grounds.

Finally, it was time for the Malfoy Yule party. Harry could barely contain his excitement, to the point that Ryan, James, and Lily noticed.

"Eager to see your Death Eater friends, are you?" Ryan had sneered when his parents were out of the room. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Just because you're jealous that my friends will actually be  _ attending _ doesn't mean you need to make baseless accusations," Harry said calmly. He was quite used to Ryan's accusations about his friends by now. As if a green and silver uniform decided your fate.

Ryan was about to say something else, but Lily entered the room before he could. Harry had to admit, she looked beautiful, her red hair cascading down her back, and her bottle-green robes shining in the firelight. He felt a sadness that he would never admit, that things between him and his mother were the way they were, and for a moment, just a moment, he loved her with all his heart.

She had tried. Lily might have failed, but she had at least tried. James never even put in the effort.

His father was wearing deep burgundy robes with golden accents, Gryffindor to the core, even all these years later. Ryan looked rather like a mini-James in his deep red, down to the hazel of his eyes. 

Harry had selected the deepest of green, so dark it looked black in the shadows, with silver embroidery. He stood out from his family like a dark specter, shimmering in the fire. James looked at him, disapproving, as he always was.

"Everyone ready?" he said in his usual loud voice. "We'll be late, and I promised the MInister I would bring you all to see him."

Harry wondered if it was compulsive, the constant need to brag, even around his wife and sons. He rolled his eyes as James stepped into the green fire, followed by Lily, then Ryan, and finally, himself.

Harry stepped gracefully out of the Malfoy's fireplace, brushing soot off his robes as he did so before fixing his hair. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were in the receiving room, looking perfect together as usual. 

"Ah, James," Mr. Malfoy said, a subtle sneer to his tone. "And your lovely family. Lily," he said, bending to brush a light kiss over her hand. 

"Lucius," James said tightly, barely containing whatever emotions he was feeling. Jealousy, probably, Harry thought.

The Malfoy's greed Ryan, ever gracious, and then turned to Harry.

"Harry," Narcissa said warmly, and actually pulled him into a hug. Harry was surprised and pleased - whatever rivalry between him and Draco, he had always adored his mother.

"Narcissa. You love beautiful, as always," he said, returning the hug. 

Lucius shook his hand firmly, respect clear his eyes.

"Harry," He said, and Harry smiled.

"Lucius," he said. He'd received permission to call both of them by their first names years ago, when he and Draco had started to sort out their differences, and Harry had proved that he wasn't a copy of James  _ or _ Lily.

"Draco and the rest of your friends are waiting for you," he said, and Harry nodded, taking the words for what they were - an opportunity.

He turned to James, but his father gripped his shoulder, an odd look in his eye. 

"The Minister wants to meet with us," he said, his tone friendly. Startled, Harry looked at his father. There was an expression on his face that he didn't recognize. Unsure how to reply, and unwilling to pass up the opportunity to meet the Minister once more, Harry gave a mental shrug and followed his father into the reception room.

Pius Thicknesse hadn't been Minister for Magic very long - his predecessor, Cornelius Fudge, had been ousted only a year previous. It was his promotion to Minister that allowed James to become the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As his father's predecessor, Harry knew that he was closer to Thickness than he had been to Fudge. 

"Ah, James," Thickness said jovially, his wife, Leonore, standing next to him with a smile on her face. "How good to see you. And Lily, beautiful as ever."

He then turned to Ryan and Harry, something of a gleam in his eyes.

"And your sons," he said. "Ryan and Harry, yes? A pleasure to meet you both." He shook Ryan's hand briefly, then Harry's. "Both prefects, I hear? You must be proud, James."

Harry was a little bit surprised that there was no mention of Ryan's status, and apparently no preference between them. It was unusual, and Harry kind of liked it. His respect for Minister Thicknesse went up a notch.

"Now, you boys don't want to be stuck with us, do you?" the minister said. "Why don't you go find some of your friends? Young Mr. Malfoy is around here somewhere."

Harry just knew that Ryan had bit his tongue not to say that Draco was no friend of his.

"We will, Minister," Harry said in the silence. "It was good to meet you."

And Harry and Ryan, unusually united, turned away.

The moment, such as it was, was ruined when Ryan spoke.

"I'm going to go find someone  _ decent _ to talk to," he said with a sneer, and practically stomped away. Harry figured he was upset by the lack of special treatment by the Minister. After all, with Fudge, Harry had been nearly ignored, all of the praise heaped upon the Boy-Who-Lived.

It was kind of refreshing, actually.

Harry entered the ballroom, looking around. Several couples were dancing in the middle of it, Draco and Pansy included. He was about to head over to where he could see Blaise and Theo talking, when he heard a familiar voice behind him

"Harry. How good to see you over the holidays."

It was Tiberus Rowle.

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, surprised and pleased. Though on second thought, he should have expected Rowle's presence. After all, Draco had said he'd visited the manor over the summer. He grinned. "How are you enjoying the party?"

Rowle looked amused.

"Oh, well enough," he said. "It's been some time since I've been to a gathering like this. But Lucius is an old friend, and I could hardly deny him the pleasure of my company. How has your Yule been so far?"

Harry couldn't help a grimace. 

"Same as it usually is," he said, not bothering to keep up the facade of a happy family, not with his favorite professor. "But I've been reading a lot," he added, hinting that he had started the exercises in the book he had been given. Occlumency seemed complicated, but there was a great deal of value to be found in the art. Especially in protecting one's mind.

Rowle's eyes gleamed, and Harry knew he had gotten the point.

"Very good," he said quietly. "I look forward to our first lesson, when term begins again. Ah, I see young Mr. Malfoy is finished with his dance. I'm sure you don't want to spend a party with your professor, hmm?"

Harry almost objected - he kind of would like to speak to Professor Rowle more. But he didn't quite dare object, thinking that perhaps Rowle wanted to speak to someone else. He gave his professor a smile.

"I'll make sure to study," he said, a statement that anyone else would think to mean for Defense. "The books are interesting, Have a good Yule, Professor." And, with a little wave, Harry turned away, going to greet Draco.

After all, he had a certain plan for Malfoy, and his family's collection of dark objects, and it wouldn't do to be distracted.

Theo gave him a knowing look as he approached, and a grin.

"Harry!" he said, straightening up from where he was slouching against the wall. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

"And miss the best thing about Yule holidays?" he asked, smirking at Malfoy. "I think not."

Malfoy looked flattered and pleased at the compliment, smiling at Harry. His pale face was flushed red from dancing and excitement, and his arm was around Pansy.

"Thanks, Harry," he said. "Theo said you wanted to talk?"

Straight to business, then.

"Yeah," Harry said, lowering his voice. "I had a weird thing happen to me at school..." and he started explaining about the Room of Requirement, and how he thought that he might somehow react to dark objects. "And obviously, we don't have anything suitable at Potter Manor to test it again," he said in almost a whisper. "So Theo and I were thinking that you might help."

Draco nodded slowly, a curious expression on his face.

"So long as you don't mean to take anything with you, I don't see why not," he said. "We'll sneak away during after dinner drinks. Everyone should be busy then. Or drunk. Anyway, what do you think will happen?"

"I have no idea," said Harry.

Dinner, as expected, was delicious. Harry ate his fill, though unfortunately he was required to sit next to Ryan, who, it seemed, had picked up his eating habits from Ron Weasley, practically wolfing down the food. Harry exchanged a glance with his mother, who looked pained. 

Harry barely tasted his food, he was so nervous and eager to enter the rumored Malfoy vault. Draco had bragged about it before, and Harry wondered what might be found there.

Once the dinner had ended, and the adult retired to drink and gossip, Harry followed Draco along with Pansy, Blaise, and Theo into the drawing room. 

Draco raised a secret trapdoor, and together, they descended down, into the dark.

Harry could hear the others begin to speak, but he couldn't understand them for the blood pounding in his ears.

Something was down there.

Something like the diadem.


End file.
